Beyond the Fringe
by 50ftQueenie
Summary: Pauline Mathews knows what the tiny crown tattooed on the inside of his wrist means. She has heard plenty about the River Kings over the years, and has had just enough run-ins with their membership to know that it ain't all spook stories.
1. Breakin' The Chains of Love

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Breakin' The Chains of Love" is a song by Fitz and the Tantrums. "Beyond the Fringe" was a 1960s British stage revue, sort of a precursor to Monty Python's Flying Circus.

Chapter 1- Breakin' the Chains of Love

_I've been tryin' to get you_

_To see things all my way_

_40 days now since you left me_

_And I know that you'll probably keep away_

"Just tell me where he is, Two-Bit."

She isn't begging; she already knows she's going to have her way. She has her purse ready and her change for the bus. She's sitting on the edge of the arm of the sofa, zipping up her boots.

He's tried lying. Now he switches to a different and probably just as hopeless tactic. "You don't want to see him, Paulie. Why don't you just wait him out? He'll come around. Always does, right?"

"So, you do know where he is."

"I knew where he was two days ago. Same little dive bar downtown."

"Thank you," Her suspicions confirmed, she stands up. "You know, they told Mom when he got out of the hospital that he'd die if he didn't quit this time."

Two-Bit folds his arms across his chest. "Then he's going to die, because he sure as hell ain't quit. Don't think you're going to be the one to make him."

"That's not what I think. That'd be dumb."

"What are you going down there for, then? To take his picture for the album?"

She picks up the camera that their high school journalism club lets her borrow because she's so damned good with it, even if she rarely completes the assignments they give her.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."

* * *

Pauline Mathews takes the bus downtown because she knows Two-Bit won't drive her. He can't keep his mouth shut to withhold their father's whereabouts, but he isn't going to hand-deliver her to the lion's den either.

A couple of stops into the journey, Curly Shepard gets on the bus. Curly is a freshman-who-should-be-a-sophomore and Pauline is a senior at Will Rogers. They don't have classes together; their older brothers run in the same circles and sometimes collide with one another. Curly crushes on Pauline on and off because she's female and friendly to him. Pauline has no interest in Curly because he's fifteen, but she likes his energy. He moves as if there were springs inside of him.

Curly spots Pauline, grins, and throws himself down next to her, letting the weight of the bus slam his body against hers.

"What's going on, Miss Pauline?"

"Just short of Jack Shit. How about you?"

"Hey, you know I know Jack Shit. Busy guy. I ain't doing nothing. Probation guy's on my ass. Big Brother is watching. Thought I'd take a ride and give this fucker a run for his money." He nods towards the bus driver, who is casting quick, weary glances at Curly in the rearview mirror. "Where you headed?"

"Downtown. Place called Nifty's."

Curly makes a face.

"You know it then," Pauline rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, I know it. What's it called when you give something a name that means the opposite of what it actually is? Is that irony?"

"Nope," Pauline shakes her head. "It's an antonym."

"Damn," Curly says. "I hate English. What's irony again?"

Pauline thinks for a second. She usually does well in English herself, but irony has always given her trouble as well. "I think that would be if they purposely named it Nifty's knowing it was going to be a dive. That sound about right?"

Curly shrugs. "Fuck if I know. What are you going down there for anyway?"

"Talk to my dad."

"Trying to get money out of him? Want me to knock him around for you? I'm fucking bored."

"He don't have any money."

"Sure, he does. He's drinking in a bar. He must have something."

"Please don't roll my father, Curly," Pauline says. She likes Curly Shepard more- or tolerates him better- than most people do. She gets Curly, and she's done her time with his brother Tim. She knows what Curly means when he says Big Brother is watching him.

"Suit yourself. This is my stop," Curly says. He reaches behind him and yanks the bell. "Last chance."

"I'm good. You have yourself a lovely afternoon."

"Oh, I intend to," he says, standing up before the bus is anywhere near a complete stop. He lets the momentum spin him back to face her as he steps towards the rear doors. He's grinning and pinching his thumb and index finger to his lips, indicating that he is headed off to get ripping high.

Pauline gives him a little salute. "Onward and upward, Shepard."

Without Curly, there is silence on the bus. She closes her eyes and lets it rock her back and forth. It's like being back in the womb, she thinks. Something bigger than herself sways her gently. Then it stops with a jerk. It's time to disembark. It's early September and the air on the outside is sour. Downtown Tulsa is filled with angry sounds, and the shapes of the buildings that line the street are jagged and harsh. The wind blows her skirt against her bare legs and it feels like unwelcome fingers on her thighs as she makes her way the two blocks to the place called Nifty's where her father is drinking.

* * *

Paul Mathews can- and most likely will- protest until the end of time that this one isn't his. It won't ever do him any good. She looks like him, she has his name, and she just keeps coming back. Her brother acts like a damned idiot, but at least he's learned to take a hint. The girl just keeps turning up.

It's probably his fault. He may have encouraged her once, when he was still on the amicable and silly side of a drunk. He started calling her Pop Tart because she kept popping up. Giving her the nickname was a mistake. It implied familiarity, and since then she's continued to live up to it- popping up over and over again, usually when he is too drunk to run.

She has a funny look in her eye this time. Times before this, she's come in looking so wide-eyed. He couldn't fathom how a kid growing up in this side of town could look so innocent. This time, though, she's got the look of a girl who's finally got her cherry popped. Something or someone has plowed her over good. He wasn't around to find out what, but he's going to get the full after-effect of it now, that he knows for certain. She's a persistent little fuck. He's going to have to get ugly with her if he wants to get back to drinking.

"Hey," she says. She leans on the bar next to him, but doesn't make any move to hoist herself up on a stool, which is a relief to Paul until she sets the camera up on the bar.

"What do you want? What's that?"

"It's a camera. I borrowed it from school."

"What are you bringing it in here for? You ain't going to take pictures. Isn't that an invasion of my privacy?"

Paul could kick himself for asking questions, for engaging her in conversation. Now he's going to have to listen to her answers.

"Just one picture. It's for a school project."

"Your school send you out to take pictures of old men in bars?"

She smiles and shakes her head, but she isn't looking at him. She is removing the camera from its case, turning some dial, looking down into it and honing in on him.

"I'm supposed to be photographing my dreams," she says. She takes a step back from him without looking up from the camera. She is obviously experienced at moving like this, seeing the world upside down and four square inches at a time.

Paul snorts and takes a pull off of his bottle of beer. He doesn't want to know, really he doesn't. The Grain Belt has him talking though, and- against his better judgment- he asks, "And this is what you aspire to someday?"

"No, not those kind of dreams," she says. "I dream about you…or I had a dream about you. I'm supposed to photograph something I saw in a dream."

"Really? What did you dream about me?"

"That you died." Click. She trips the shutter and cocks it again. She takes another step back. "Can I take one more?"

Paul swallows and shrugs. He looks away from her, straight across the bar, and takes another sip of his beer. "Do your worst, kid."

Another click. This time, she is satisfied. Pauline wraps the cover back over the camera and picks up her purse. She looks up at him, but he can't tell what she's thinking. For once, it seems as though she is going to walk away without being chased.

"So what happened to me?" He asks her, trying to sound like he doesn't care. For all he knows, this is a ploy- some adolescent scheme to manipulate him into talking by giving him an unholy case of the creeps. If that's the case, it's working, he guesses. "How'd I die?"

His so-called daughter shrugs. "I don't know. I just know it was here. I remember the smell."

"You dreamed the smell?"

Another shrug. "I remembered it when I woke up. It's called an olfactory hallucination."

He smirks. He knows what it's called, smart ass little girl. "Well, it's been a pleasure helping you with your homework. Tell your mother I know she came to the hospital and that doctor she talked to is a quack. I'd like to get back at it now, if you don't mind."

"Get back at what?"

"Back to the dying you seem to think I'm doing."

"Suit yourself," Pauline says. Without another word, she turns and walks out the door. When it opens, light floods the bar for an instant, and it is as if she is the one being sucked into the next world. She leaves Paul alone in the dark with his beer, but she walks away- he is certain- with his soul in a box.

_I've been trying to forget you_

_But pictures they don't fade_

_40 days now since you left me_

_And I know that these tears won't wipe away_


	2. Knife Feels Like Justice

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. Ingram, Duane, and Nicky aren't entirely off-canon, and their connection will become apparent in time- I promise. "Knife Feels Like Justice" is an old song by Brian Setzer, after he was a Stray Cat, but before he had an orchestra.

Chapter 2- The Knife Feels Like Justice

…_there ain't nobody ever looked at me without looking right through me_

_And there ain't nobody ever looked at me without looking right by me_

_And you can't go on when the knife feels like justice _

John Ingram Walker might actually like his parole officer. He hasn't decided yet, but the guy is fair piece more tolerable than the do-gooder Socialists and religious nuts who tried to turn his life around in the pen. Not that Ingram has a problem with the concept of socialism. He just knows from growing up on the wrong side of the tracks that it's near impossible to convince the people on the right side of the tracks- the ones with everything to lose- of the merits of sharing.

Figures of speech aside, Ingram didn't really grow up on the wrong side of the tracks. He grew up almost on top of them. His grandfather was a railroad man, and he rented a small house from the Santa Fe Company, one of several that they maintained for families of workers who needed a place to stay while their men road the Tulsa Queen back and forth between Little Rock and Albuquerque. Ingram lived there with his grandmother when his mother died in Tennessee His father, John Ingram Junior, road with him as far as Tulsa, dropped him with his grandparents and disappeared.

Ingram was six years old the last time he saw his father, but absence in Ingram's life was probably the greatest stroke of luck the boy had ever seen. His grandparents loved him, and his grandmother kept him in line with a soft voice and a clear set of moral guidelines. His grandfather, although less often present, sometimes resorted to a cuff across the back of the head. What he did not resort to was using hard work as punishment. Work was work. You just did it. It wasn't something that was reserved for when you were bad. He often used the railroad as his metaphor when explaining this to Ingram. "There's snow on the lines north of Santa Fe. Somebody's got to clear it or the whole line stops…and then what happens?"

Ingram would squint and scan the railcars lined up a few yards from their house. If they were hauling lumber, he would reply to his grandfather, "then they don't get their lumber out there. No houses get built."

"That's right," his grandfather would nod. "And whose job is that? To clear snow?"

"All of ours," Ingram would tell him because Ingram knew that it was his job to clear the snow from their front steps so that his grandfather could get on the train and help clear snow from the rails so that the train could get to New Mexico and houses could get built.

His grandparents were socialists, Ingram supposes, and he likes the philosophy, just not the title. Tell people you're a socialist and they start to panic. Oklahomans hear "socialist" and they think you're here to take away their guns. Ingram doesn't give a damn about people's guns. They can have all the guns they want as long as they ain't pointing them at him.

In prison, it wasn't the socialist vocational rehab guys that Ingram butted heads with so much as the Jesus Freaks. They never used the word, but Ingram's grandparents were also atheists. After leaving Tennessee as a child, Ingram grew up in a home devoid of religion. As he got older, he came to understand that their ideas as much as his grandfather's occupation were what caused them to leave their Tennessee mountain community.

He learned not to talk about it much in school. Other kids looked upon him with pity for not having Christmas, but Ingram secretly pitied them in return for having to place all their hopes and dreams on one sparkling, over-energized morning a year. Ingram had what he needed all year long, and his grandfather taught him that you didn't need much. If you worked hard and used your talents, you didn't need to pray to God or anyone else to step in and help you out.

So that was Ingram's life until he was sixteen. Dirt poor by most people's standards, but he had a place to live and chores to keep him busy. He didn't like school much, but his grandmother said he had to go, and so he did. He earned average grades. He excelled in shop and auto mechanics. From an early age, he could take almost anything apart and put it back together again.

When he was sixteen, Ingram's grandmother died. She died while his grandfather was on the line in Texas or New Mexico. Ingram woke up one morning, stoked the coal stove and waited, but she didn't come out of her room to make coffee. He stayed in the kitchen for some time debating whether or not to check on her or go to school. When enough time had passed that he was going to be late for school anyway, he tapped on her bedroom door, and when he got no answer, he entered. She was gone, and it was like the house was empty.

He called a funeral home and right away the trouble started. Are you Baptists? Methodists? Catholics? What kind of services do you want?

"None of them," Ingram told him. "There won't be church services. We don't go to church."

"Well, just because you don't go, boy, don't mean there ain't a church. How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen, sir. I know there's such thing as church, we just don't belong to any of them."

The mortician asked suspiciously, "are you Jewish or something?"

"No, sir. We just don't have a church. My granddaddy's working on the Santa Fe right now. He won't be back until Saturday night. Can you keep her for me until then?"

"Yes, son," he was told. "I can keep her for you."

The two men- the mortician and his helper- who came to the house were kind and sympathetic to Ingram, although they seemed to think his desire to get his grandmother's body out of the house was due to some superstition about having a dead body around. Ingram had no fear of his grandmother's body, though. To him, it was simply that. A body without life in it. It didn't need to be there if it wasn't breathing. He thanked the mortician and his assistant, and told them his grandfather would contact them with further instructions. He was exhausted from dealing with them, tired of trying to explain that there would be no services and that it didn't really matter what they did with her.

After that, Ingram was left pretty much alone in the house. His grandfather continued to work and was gone for long stretches at a time. Ingram got lonely. He had a couple of friends from school- which he went to with less frequency- whose parents tossed them out now and then. The older brother, Nicky Mitchell, was eighteen and had quit going to school as soon as the school quit trying to find him and drag him back. The younger one, Duane, was Ingram's age. He was easy-going and shared Ingram's fascination with mechanics, although he did not possess Ingram's level of talent. When their parents kicked them out, Ingram would let Nicky and Duane stay with him.

It was from Nicky that Ingram first heard of the River Kings. Ingram was aware of the existence of gangs, just as he was aware of the existence of churches. He had been accused of being a gang kid before owing to his greased-back hair, his tortured jeans, and his taste in music. He had never been approached by one, though since the majority of gang leadership of Tulsa had no idea what to do with Ingram. They thought he was religious. He seemed to follow some kind of code that was unfamiliar to them, and they took it to mean he must be deeply entrenched in some church. It was Nicky and Duane who discovered, after being "excused" from their own family's Yuletide celebration for being drunk at Christmas Eve dinner, that Ingram had no Christmas tree.

"Just don't do it since your grandma passed, huh?" Duane had asked.

"Don't do what?" Ingram said.

"Christmas. I suppose it don't make sense to do put up a tree or nothing with it just being you."

"We can get you a tree," Nicky had interjected, still three sheets to the wind and itching for an altercation. "I know where there's trees."

"I know where there's trees, too," Ingram had replied, incredulous. "There's trees all over. I just got no interest in cutting one down."

"They're already cut down," Nicky said. "There's a whole lot full of 'em down on Sutton. The beat cop takes a break to piss and eat a burger every night at nine. Ain't no one patrolling on Christmas Eve, fucker. We can get a tree."

Ingram sighed heavily. _Here it goes_, he thought. "We don't have Christmas. I don't need a tree because we don't celebrate Christmas here."

"Serious?" Are you Jewish?" Duane asked. "We always thought your grandparents was serious Bible-thumpers or something."

"Snake-handlers," Nicky grinned. "Ain't that a hillbilly thing? All that praying with snakes and trying to not die from getting bit?"

"Wouldn't know. Ain't no snake handler."

Duane had shrugged. He liked Ingram. Ingram was about as laid-back in manner as he was, but surprisingly quick moving when you needed him to be. He'd seen Ingram knock a guy cold in one punch before. He'd never seen him handle a knife, but maybe he didn't have one. If Ingram had a blade, Duane thought, he'd be unstoppable.

Nicky, who was not laid-back about anything, became obsessed with the Christmas tree idea. He didn't think Ingram needed to have one as much as he just wanted to go steal one. Ingram, who was bored, wasn't against the idea. It just seemed stupid to steal something if you didn't have any place to put it. Ingram had certainly taken things before, but never anything he didn't need.

They stole a Christmas tree that night, but Ingram left it outside for birds to sit in. Nicky and Duane went along with that when they realized that Ingram didn't have any decorations anyway.

Ingram became a River King, he now admit to his somewhat likable parole officer, because he was lonely. He wasn't bored. He wasn't morally deficient. He just wanted to be around people, and the River Kings took him because he could cherry out their cars like no one they had ever met before. Their drag racing prowess was unbeatable with him in their pocket.

It was a slow progression, Ingram could see it now: they let him come around and work on cars. There was nothing illegal at first. He was more of a mascot than an actual member. Over the next two years, however, he slipped in deeper and deeper. By the time he was eighteen, they were the only people Ingram knew. They had his loyalty. They had him.

"Looking back," he told a prison chaplain once at McAlester, "I was stupid. I was like one of them people who just blindly follows a preacher…"

He'd stopped there and smiled at the priest. "I don't think you're going to find a convert in me, padre," Ingram said. "Following is what got me here in the first place."

It was the loyalty that the River Kings demanded that led to Ingram's eventual stint in McAlester. Nicky Mitchell and the River Kings leader, Vaughan Childs, planned to knock over a pawn shop to steal guns. They didn't tell Ingram what they needed so damned many guns for, although he figured it out eventually. They needed a driver, and Ingram was a good driver. He was cool under pressure and he could handle a car going any speed like it was an extension of his own body.

They robbed the pawn shop at gunpoint. Ingram drove them away. They got caught. To further complicate matters, the clerk they robbed had mouthed off to Vaughan who had responded by hitting him with the butt of his own gun. The clerk died, and all three boys were charged with armed robbery and manslaughter. Vaughan, however, already had a prison record. His criminal record was nothing short of astounding, and the new charges stood to put him away for a long time. So, he decided to test Ingram's loyalty, and he won.

Ingram copped to the robbery and the manslaughter instead of just the driving. The clerk was dead; there was no one to identify who did what. Ingram served two years in the Oklahoma State Penitentiary. He saw various members of the River Kings go in and out while he was there. Nicky was even in with him for a while. It was Nicky who informed him- several months too late- that Ingram's grandfather had passed away. Ingram had thought he just wasn't coming to visit because he was ashamed of Ingram and angry. In truth, he was just gone. Ingram was alone.

Not as alone as he thought, though. It was Duane Mitchell who picked Ingram up in Ingram's own car when he was released from prison. They were both almost 21, filled out some, and older-looking than when they last seen one another. Duane greeted Ingram with a grin, but it disappeared once they got inside the car and on to the highway.

"What?" Ingram said. He hardly went a minute without a cigarette between his lips, but he hesitated before lighting his second one as a free man. Something wasn't right with Duane.

"It's bad, Johnnie Walker," Duane told him. Ingram had long since given up telling Duane that John Walker was what his father was called, and that Johnnie Walker the whiskey is made in Scotland. Ingram was born in Tennessee. Didn't matter to Duane. It sounded cool to call your buddy Johnnie Walker.

"What's bad? Tulsa? Shit, I could smell it from my cell in there. Tell me something I don't know."

"No, I'm serious, fucker. Vaughan and Nicky, man. They're fucked up. Sticking needles in their arms. Goddamned goofy off their asses on some shit."

Ingram frowned. He had become acquainted with all manner of shit while in the pen. He hadn't tried anything, but he knew there was an abundance of shit to be had. "What? Smack?"

Duane shook his head. "Speed. Goddamn, and if you thought my brother was out of his tree before, you should see him tweak, man. He ain't just out of his tree. He's swinging from tree to tree like a fuckin' monkey."

"So what do you want to do?"

"I want out, buddy. I don't know what I want to do. I just know it ain't that. I thought I'd find out if you was with me before we got on back up to Tulsa."

Ingram didn't even have to think about, but he was quiet for a few moments anyway. He smoked the rest of his cigarette and tossed the butt out the window. "Yeah, man. I'm with you. You know that."

He doesn't tell the parole officer this last part of the tale. He isn't ready to be a narc just yet, to turn on Nicky and Vaughan. He just wants to be rid of them. He doesn't have any need to see them punished. So, Ingram stops his tale to his parole officer with the telling of his rebuke of the prison chaplain. That will sound good to a PO, to tell him that he doesn't intend to follow anymore.

_You want to laugh, say I'm insane_

_Don't have the sense to come in from the rain_

_But I know how to keep myself between the drops_


	3. Girls Talk

SE Hinton, she owns The Outsiders. "Girls Talk" is a song by Elvis Costello, covered by Dave Edmunds and Ringo Starr among others.

Chapter 3- Girls Talk

_I got a loaded imagination being fired by girls talk..._

Evie Reynolds lights a cigarette and hands the match over to Kathy Rose. Kathy holds the flame up to her to eye liner until the tip of pencil nearly drips and the match is burnt down to her fingers. She tosses the match in the sink and leans forward towards the mirror to smear a thick black line across her upper eyelid.

She would never get away with leaving her father's house in this much make-up or in a skirt so short, for that matter. She bides her time with her dad and brothers every morning, and then folds her skirt up at the waist as soon as she is around the block. Upon arriving at Will Rogers, she bee-lines to the 2nd floor girl's bathroom to reapply her make-up.

Kathy isn't especially close with Evie, but Evie uses the same refuge to have a morning cigarette. Pauline is there, too, perched on the windowsill to roll herself a joint.

Evie cocks an eyebrow at this, and asks, "So, I get the feeling y'all ain't going to make it to first hour. What sort of mischief are you getting up to today?"

"Taking naked pictures of Kathy," Pauline says without looking up. She's a seasoned smoker, but still fairly new to rolling her own. It requires concentration.

"Fuck!" Kathy snaps. "Stop saying that. Somebody'll hear."

Evie looks back and forth between Kathy and Pauline. She can't tell if they're serious or not. She is a year behind them in school, and they are closer with one another than they are with her. Plus, she has been going steady with Steve Randle for almost a year, and she allows him to take up a large portion of her time and attention.

Neither Kathy nor Pauline seems to keep a steady boyfriend. Kathy has some pretty scary older brothers- Tiber Street Tiger members- who keep most suitors at bay. Pauline just has Two-Bit, though, and he doesn't seem to care what she does. Evie knows that Pauline dated Tim Shepard for about two weeks once. They got paired together to work on an English assignment when Tim was still in school and retaking the class. They spent the duration of the project skipping school together and working on something back at his house. When the project ended, so did Tim and Pauline.

Kathy has turned away from the mirror now, and is glaring at Pauline, who has finished rolling her joint and is holding the smoke from her first hit. She crosses her eyes at Kathy as if she were about to pass out. She holds it out to Kathy, but Kathy puts her hands on her hips.

"Would you just explain it, and quit being such a twerp?" Kathy says. "Explain again so that _I _get it."

Pauline holds a "one moment" finger up. She drops down from the sill and exhales out the window. She offers the joint to Evie, who accepts.

"Kathy's going to be my pin-up girl," she says.

"More…" Kathy prods her.

"Pin-ups, like in the calendars…what do you think when you see them?" She asks Evie.

Evie frowns. "I don't know. Some of them are pretty."

"Yeah, okay. So, that calendar that hangs up in the DX, the one that Steve sees all afternoon long, what do you think of that one?"

"You mean, am I jealous? No, I mean, more like I just don't get it. Why have a picture up of a woman who's never going to give you a second look."

Pauline shakes her head. She takes another drag. "What are the women in that calendar doing? Have you ever looked at it?"

"Not really." Evie tries to remember. "Ain't a lot of them doing housework? There was one where this woman was vacuuming and she was getting her skirt sucked up in the vacuum. I thought that one was pretty stupid."

"There you go," Pauline says, pleased. "The women in them, it isn't so much a problem that they're half-naked as that they're ineffectual…"

"…and this is where she loses me," Kathy says.

"It's like this…we all got up this morning and picked out clothes that we liked, that we feel good in, right?"

"Not really," Kathy says. "I hate this skirt."

"Yeah, but you changed the length of your skirt to make it something you liked more as soon as you got out of your dad's sight."

"Okay."

"And we all put on make-up this morning. Who did we do it for? Did you do it for Steve's benefit, or would you still do it if you knew Steve wasn't here today?"

"Probably some for his benefit, except that he says I wear too much. I kind of like playing around with it, actually."

"Right," Pauline says, "and I got no issue with women wearing whatever they want and as much or as little of it as they want. What are you good at, Evie?"

"What?"

"What are you good at?"

Evie has to think for a minute. No one has ever asked her. "Algebra, I guess. I got an A in Home Ec last semester."

"Why?"

"Because it's easy."

Pauline shakes her head. This is not the answer she wants. "What got you that A?"

"I sewed a dress," Evie is starting to get frustrated. She knows this is leading up to something, but she needs to get to class. "I got an A because I sewed my own dress for homecoming."

"Does Steve know that?"

"What? How should I know?"

"But you know _he's_ a good mechanic, right?"

"Everybody knows that."

"Right, but does everybody know you're an awesome seamstress?"

Silence. After a moment or two, Kathy gives in and takes the joint from Pauline. She takes a hit, inhales, and then dashes to the window to cough out the smoke.

Pauline grins. "That's going to be my first picture of you, Kathy. Do you think you can replicate that again when I got my camera out?"

Kathy croaks, "every single damned time."

"So, this is the deal," Pauline turns back to Evie. "The women in those pictures ain't good at anything. They're always getting their panties sucked up in a vacuum or falling off a roof or spilling something on themselves. They're pretty and they're amusing, but that's all they are. What if they- Steve, and my brother, and Soda, and all them- look at us like that?"

"I don't think they do," Evie says, shaking her head, but now the seed is planted and she isn't so sure.

"Anyway," Pauline says. "I'm going to take pin-up pictures of Kathy. She gets to wear clothes and all, but she has to be in the same totally stupid settings as all those pin-up girls. I want people to look at them and see how ridiculous they is when there's a real person in them."

"But without making me personally look ridiculous," Kathy says.

"Only the one where you're gagging on a joint, fool," Pauline replies. She says to Evie, "make sense?"

Before Evie can say, "kind of" the bathroom door swings open and four more girls enter. They're Soc girls, cheerleaders in uniform. It's Friday night, and there's a football game. They're all awash in school spirit. That is, until they see Evie, Kathy, and Pauline. Pauline steps sideways in the last stall to flush the joint, but the cheerleaders are already crinkling their noses and rolling their eyes in disgust.

"Well, I guess we ought to go to class," Evie says.

"Yes," Kathy mutters, "and we'll do that because we're nice girls."

"Y'all are going to be late," Pauline widens her eyes in mock-horror as she squeezes between two of the Soc girls.

"We have passes," a red-head informs her. They meet each other's gaze for just an instant. Pauline looks incredulous. The cheerleader looks a little frightened. Pauline smiles and shakes her head at the redhead. She doesn't know why it amuses her to be able to intimidate this girl. She's just another girl. She'd make a good pin-up project, too.

Outside the bathroom, Evie reluctantly parts ways with Kathy and Pauline. She wants to go with them. She thinks she might want to be Pauline's pin-up girl, too, but she hasn't been asked and she still isn't entirely convinced that there won't be nudity.

"I'll see y'all later," she says.

"Sew like you mean it, baby," Pauline calls back to her, and Kathy waves. They start down the main stairs towards the doors that will take them to the parking lot. They have almost made it to the front door, when a male voice booms down the hall at them.

"Miss Mathews, Miss Rose."

The girls turn in unison. It is Mr. Halliday, the assistant principal.

"You ladies are on your way to class, I presume."

"Yes, sir," Kathy replies. Pauline remains silent. She has her brother's tendency to mouth off to their superiors, and she has learned that the best course of action is to keep quiet and let Kathy handle them.

Mr. Halliday is dubious, but where the girls are headed isn't as important to him right now as where they may have just been. "A couple of conscientious students have just reported to me that someone was smoking in the second floor ladies commode. Are you aware of any such incident?"

Kathy shakes her head, and says, "no, sir."

Pauline just looks at him in wide-eyed disbelief. Whoever would do such a thing?

"Ladies, you are aware that there is no smoking allowed on campus?"

"Unless it's in the teacher's lounge," Pauline reminds him, unable to contain herself.

Mr. Halliday corrects himself. "There is no smoking allowed by students on this campus. Are you ladies aware of that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yeah."

"And you were not on the second floor just now and did not notice anyone coming from the 2nd floor ladies commode?"

Kathy shakes her head, and answers quickly before Pauline can say something bizarre. "No, sir. We're on our way to biology. The lab is in the basement."

Mr. Halliday is aware that the biology lab is in the basement. He scowls at the girls, thinks a moment, and says, "The biology lab is in the basement- that way. You're going the wrong way."

"I left something in Keith's car," Pauline says. "I left my book."

"And you need Miss Rose to help you with that?"

"It's a really big book."

Mr. Halliday gives up. He tells them very well, then, but he is going to check into their biology lab in ten minutes to see that they've arrived safely. Pauline thanks him for his concern, and Kathy yanks her by the arm before she can antagonize him further.

The sun is shining and the morning air hits them with a wave of warmth as they burst through the doors.

"Are we going to have to roll your brother's car?" Kathy asks. It is the only allusion she's made so far about her date with Two-Bit two nights ago. She isn't sure how Pauline feels about her dating Two-Bit. She isn't even sure if she _is_ dating Two-Bit. It's not like he's called her or anything since. He'll come up behind her in the hall if he sees her and put his arm around her, but he doesn't seem to go out of his way to look for her either.

"Shouldn't," Pauline shakes her head. "He had it over to Soda's last night and they were monkeying around with it."

When they come to Two-Bit's car, though, a feeling of dread overcomes them both. They need to make a quick getaway if they want to escape Mr. Halliday. Around the corner and several blocks away, Kathy can hear the squeal of the air brakes on the city bus.

"Run for it?" She asks Pauline.

"Yeah, just a second. You got your bio book?" Pauline is staring down at the car parked next to her brother's, a glistening dark-red Corvette Stingray. Pauline frowns. How all those cheerleaders fit into that little car, she will never understand. There's a law of physics being broken somewhere.

Kathy pulls her biology textbook- which is indeed huge and weighty- from her bag and hands it to Pauline. "What are you going to do?"

"Just a little karma, my dear," Pauline replies. She takes a quick look around for witnesses and then smashes the Stingray's left tail light with Kathy's book. She dusts off the binding and hands it back to Kathy.

"Now, we run for it."

_There are some things you can't cover up with lipstick and powder_

_Thought I heard you mention my name, can't you talk any louder?_


	4. Tonight Ain't Gonna Be Good

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Tonight Ain't Gonna Be Good" is a song by Lucero- some of the coolest dudes you could ever hope to meet or see play. Roy Berry is my hero.

Chapter 4- Tonight Ain't Gonna Be Good

_With our backs against the wall_

_We can hear them as they talk_

_And you know, you know it ain't no good_

The din of students spilling out into the halls after the sixth period bell all but drowns out the voice on the loudspeaker reminding them of this afternoon's pep rally. Two-Bit Mathews and Steve Randle meet at the locker they share next to Steve's English classroom.

"What's that crone carrying on about?" Steve asks, referring to the school secretary on the intercom.

Two-Bit tosses his American History textbook into the pile at the bottom of the locker. It's the third time he's used this particular book and it's starting to show signs of his abuse.

"No seventh hour, man. All good little boys and girls are to be on their way to the gym for a show of fellowship and school spirit."

Steve smirks. "Any instructions on where we're supposed to be then?"

"No, but I'm all for a show of fellowship and alcohol use in the west parking lot. How about you?"

Steve straightens up, his face serious again. "Keep that to yourself for the time being. Gestapo at twelve o'clock."

Two-Bit turns to find himself face to face with Mr. Halliday. The assistant principal is carrying a file folder, which he seems to be reading from. It could be, however, that he finds it more comfortable to look at the folder than to make eye contact with Two-Bit.

"Mr. Mathews, have you seen you sister this afternoon?"

"Sister?" Two-Bit asks with the sweetest and dumbest smile he can manage.

"Yes. Pauline is your sister, correct?"

"Yes, sir, she is. She has eluded you, I take it. I have the same problem. Need to put a bell on that girl."

Mr. Halliday is not in the mood to chat. "Where can I reach your mother, Mr. Mathews? She and I need to have a discussion about Pauline."

Two-Bit grins. "She'll be off to work at four, your Lordship, but she ought to still be home now. She'll be thrilled that you ain't calling to chat about me."

"It will be a refreshing change from our usual topic of conversation," Mr. Halliday says. He turns to Steve. "Mr. Randle?"

"My sister's down in the grade school, sir," Steve tells him. "So far as I know, anyhow."

"Where are _you_ supposed to be, Mr. Randle?"

"Me? I got Auto Mechanics now, sir."

"No," Mr. Halliday corrects him. "You both have a pep rally to attend. Please be on your way."

"Can't hardly wait, Captain, oh my Captain," Two-Bit says. He stands there grinning at Mr. Halliday until the assistant principal shakes his head and walks away.

"Rah, rah," Steve mutters.

Two-Bit scratches his nose. "If that goddamned girl took my car, I'm going to have words with her."

"You're going to have words with her? Shit, if my sister ever took my car, I'd about beat her black and blue," Steve tells him.

"If your sister took your car…man, your sister can't see over the dashboard. What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying…hypothetically. If, someday, in the future, Beverly took my fuckin' car, I'd clean her clock."

"Yeah, you'd do that," Two-Bit replies. Steve has a so many small siblings, step-siblings and half-siblings that they could probably gang up on him like Lilliputians and take him down if he ever raised a finger to one of their masses. Two-Bit imagines this scenario briefly, chuckles, and then continues, "Whatever. That car had better still be there. I can't see how she'd get it to crank by herself. She'd have to have an accomplice. If it's still there, what do you say we take it back over to DX tonight? It could use another date with Steve and Soda's Magic Fingers."

"What do you say we head on over there now," Steve says. "Provided it's still sitting where you left it. I just ain't in the mood for a pep rally this afternoon."

"What? You? Not feeling peppy? I can't imagine."

They fall in line with the other students heading towards the gym, but veer away from the herd when they reach the doors the kitchen staff uses near the cafeteria. Steve bumps shoulders with a Soc wearing a football jersey, and mumbles "dumbass," under his breath.

"What was that?" The football player says.

Steve takes a step towards him. "You need me to say it again?"

Two-Bit clamps his hands down on Steve's shoulders and steers him towards the door.

"He said best of luck to you this evening," he calls back over his shoulder to the Soc. "Dumbass."

Once outside, they beeline for Two-Bit's Plymouth, and are relieved to find it is still where he parked it this morning. Steve offers to push, and with his help, the Plymouth fires up. He jumps in as Two-Bit lets it roll slowly out its parking spot.

"If she didn't take your car, where do you suppose she got off to?"

Two-Bit shrugs. "Who the hell knows? Buying dope downtown. Taking pictures of some damned thing. I'm sure it's all in the name of art, whatever she's doing to endanger herself today."

Although he doesn't say anything, Steve never ceases to be horrified at Two-Bit's disinterest in his sister's antics. In Steve's opinion, Pauline is a girl who needs to be reigned in for her own damned good. He doesn't like her. He's told Evie to stay clear of her, although he's confident Evie has chosen to ignore his directive.

"You decide about the game tonight?" Steve changes the subject. He opens the glove compartment and finds a flask in it. He takes a drink and then hands it over to Two-Bit.

"I haven't made up my mind. You know me. I like to be wide open."

"You should take Marty's sister- what's her name? She's kind of cute."

"Kathy?" Two-Bit shrugs. "She's a girl. I don't know, man. Every time I see her, she's looking at me with these big lovey-dovey eyes…"

"I'm pretty sure those are just her eyes, man. She's got some big baby-doll peepers. They're kind of pretty."

"Well, they scare the ever-loving shit out me," Two-Bit says. "I've seen that look before. One minute, she's all 'I love you…', but then you cross her- or she think you've crossed her- and that look turns evil."

"Are you actually talking about Kathy here, or is this some made-up chick that lives in your head? I thought I was paranoid. Anyway, I could use you tonight. Speaking of witches with big blue eyes, Soda and Sandy want to go to the game. I need someone to break up the little huddle that Sandy and Evie always seem to end up in. Shit, I could just smack that Sandy some days."

"Like you'd smack your sister for driving your car?"

"Shut the fuck up. No, for real. I could smack Sandy." Steve takes another drink. He chucks the flask back into the glove compartment. He needs to keep his head if he's going to take Two-Bit's starter apart again this afternoon.

"DX?" Two-Bit asks.

Steve nods. "Yeah. I got to work until eight. Soda should be there. Ellis says some guy's supposed to come by to apply to work days with Soda, but it ought to be pretty slow otherwise. We'll have some time to monkey with this piece of shit."

They take their time driving to the DX. Steve changes into his work shirt as they cruise up the Ribbon, arguing the merits of the various burger joints until they finally decide neither of them is really that hungry any way. Steve just wants a bottle of milk, which can't be had at the DX, so Two-Bit takes him to a corner grocery store, and then they move on to the gas station.

Two-Bit sighs loudly when he sees his sister and Kathy Rose outside. They are leaning against the open garage door drinking Pepsis. He swerves slightly, revs the engine and wails on the horn as though he might run them over. Kathy sees who it is, and immediately takes a shy and submissive stance. Pauline flips him off.

"Afternoon, ladies," Steve grumbles. He and his bottle of milk head into the garage to find out what Sodapop is working on and if it can be moved aside to make room for Two-Bit's car.

Two-Bit takes his time getting out of the car. He's thinking about what he wants to say and do versus what he should say and do in regards to Kathy. He hates this shit. He's a guy who prides himself on his spontaneity, and having a regular girl bleeds that out of him. He likes her, really he does. He likes her enough that he'd probably go out with her again if he thought he could convince her to take it down a few notches.

With both of them standing right there, Two-Bit's thinking time is limited. In the end, he makes what is probably the wrong decision and goes with ignoring Kathy completely. He turns his attention to warning his sister.

"Hey, Monkey Business, Halliday was looking for you just now. He's going to put a call in to Mom."

Pauline frowns and says, "That creep."

"Yeah, I suppose he thinks he's going to nip this behavior in the bud before you turn out like me."

"How am I going to turn out like you? I already passed you up in school. I'd have to go back in time."

"Well, he must know you're the brains in the family. Maybe he's afraid you'd figure that out, too."

Pauline nods, as though this is entirely probable. "What'd you tell him?"

"Nothing he didn't know. Mom's either at home or at work. He probably called her before she left. If I was you, I'd turn in late this evening. Go home now, and you're likely to get your wings clipped."

"You're the bestest big brother in the whole world," Pauline does her best Shirley Temple and bats her eyelashes. "You going to the game tonight?"

Two-Bit knows Kathy is still listening, although she has moved around to the front of the DX. Pauline is most likely asking because she has been told to steer him in the direction of a decision. He makes a face at her, but Pauline is fumbling with her camera.

"Nah, I think I'll skip it. Probably throw back a few, and go to The Dingo. Dal, and Pony, and Johnny's supposed to be there."

"Dally's out?" Pauline asks. She glares back at Two-Bit, jerking her thumb in Kathy's direction. Two-Bit shakes his head and Pauline reaches out to shove him. "You're such an asshole," she whispers, and then turns to join Kathy at the front of the shop.

"What about you, Paulie?" Two-Bit calls after her.

"I was going to go to The Dingo, too," she shouts, on her way out the door, "but I'm hardly interested in spending the evening with your drunk ass."

Two-Bit shakes his head and turns back to his car. Steve has helped himself into the driver's seat and is poking at the casing around the ignition switch with a screwdriver.

"You never cease to amaze me, Mathews," Steve says from beneath the dash.

"How's that?"

"Are you encouraging her to run wild on the mean streets of Tulsa all night long?"

"She's going to do it anyway. And she's also going to get caught. If anything, I'm just giving her time to come up with a real good excuse for when it all comes crashing down on her."

_Baby, don't go to the show tonight_

_Summer's winding down, there's gonna be a fight_

_You know, you know it ain't no good_


	5. Good Intentions

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Good Intentions Paving Company" is a song by Joanna Newsom. This is primarily an OC chapter, so those of you who don't like OCs will just have to cry in your beers for a bit.

Chapter 5- Good Intentions

_And there is hesitation  
And it always remains  
Concerning you, me,  
And the rest of the gang_

Duane can't help but smile when he pulls up in front of the Tulsa County Courthouse and sees Ingram standing on the steps with a large manila envelope in his left hand. He's wearing his leather jacket, work boots, jeans, and biker sunglasses and holding his cigarette between his thumb and index finger like James Motherfuckin' Dean. The envelope looks very official and out of place.

Ingram tosses his cigarette and hops into the car next to Duane.

"Your suit at the cleaners?" Duane asks him. He gestures to the envelope. "You going to law school now or what?"

"My marching orders," Ingram says, and then- when he sees the worry wash over Duane's face- he shakes his head. "Nah, not that. Too old for the Army, or so they tell me. Draft is one thing I ain't got to worry about. This here's my GED papers."

"You got one?"

"Yeah, failed it once or twice, but fuck knows I had the time to do it till I got it right."

Duane nods. He could never get a read on Ingram as far as school went. Ingram seems to remember everything he hears. He knows every song on the radio, and sings to himself constantly. Vaughan Childs once threatened to cut Ingram's tongue out if he didn't quit singing while he worked on cars. Ingram hummed to himself instead.

"Got to get a job," Ingram says.

"Any ideas?"

"Yeah, P.O. said to check in with this old guy named Ellis. Runs a DX station over yonder north and east. He's got a couple of kids working there, but they ain't old enough to do the serious mechanic work. Says he's got 'em doing it now anyway, but they really ain't legal." Ingram smirks. "I guess I'd make it legal, if I was to hang out there during the day with the one."

"So, you'd be working on cars."

"And babysitting, from the sound of it." Ingram shrugs. The idea doesn't appear to bother him, but Duane figures it must if he said it aloud.

"Why don't this Ellis guy do his own babysitting?"

"Too busy doing books. He part-owns another place and the two of them together takes up his time. Plus, he's old and his wife's trying to get him out of the racket all together. Don't make any difference to me. I can babysit, I guess."

"You want to stop by then?"

Ingram lights another cigarette. "Fine by me. All's we got left to do is go hang around with Nicky and them. I ain't hardly itching to do that."

Duane nods. He knows where the DX is that Ingram is talking about. It's not one he usually visits. It's in Shepard territory, although the boys Ingram speaks of babysitting aren't part of Tim's outfit themselves. As he understands it, they bare some loose allegiance to Tim. They showed up once to back Tim's gang in a rumble with the River Kings.

Stepping on to Tim Shepard's turf makes Duane a little uneasy, and he knows Ingram isn't overjoyed with the idea either. They both know Tim is something they're just going to have to get used to, especially after tonight. Taking these first few steps though, away from Vaughan's gang and into Tim's, is like stepping out of the trenches after a long battle. They don't know who is left alive to fire at them, surrender to them, or demand surrender of them.

Duane and Ingram have planned their treachery as well as they possibly can. Like East German or Russian spies, they are going to defect. Simply walking away from the Kings is too dangerous. Vaughan will hunt them down. The way his head works these days, he'll probably kill them. They are going to need protection.

Duane has been quietly observing the Shepard outfit for a while. They're about as tough of characters as one can come across in Tulsa without actually getting involved in the drug trade. Whatever his reasons are, Tim Shepard steers clear of that. Duane is confident of that since meeting the two newest River King recruits who joined up while Ingram was still in the joint. Tim had tossed them out for trading speed on their own time. If he and Ingram defect to the Shepard gang, Duane figures, it will just even out the numbers.

There is nothing magical about tonight. It just seems like a good night to do it. Summer is winding down. Things have been quiet amongst the greaser gangs mostly because the Socs have been causing everyone so much damned trouble. Duane figures they can approach Tim without asking for a beating, and he knows exactly where Tim Shepard can be found on a late summer Friday night. He'll be at the Dingo. Tim and God and everyone will be there.

School is letting out. Duane drives slowly down the Ribbon and he and Ingram observe the crowds of girls walking away from Will Rodgers towards the bowling alley and the burger joints. Every now and then, Ingram whistles softly under his breath.

Duane laughs at him. "Jailbait, Johnny Walker. Your P.O. didn't have that little talk with you?"

"Fuck, he didn't say I couldn't look." Ingram flicks ashes at Duane. "And you're looking, too."

They pull up to the DX just as two girls are coming through the door, a blonde and a brunette. Just to mess with Duane, Ingram makes a show of stepping out of their way and saying, "howdy," with a slight bow. The girls giggle and scurry out of his way. Ingram watches them go, cocking his head slightly to assess each one from behind.

"Christ Jesus," Duane says. "Get in there and get yourself a job. Then y'all can watch that walk in and out the door all damned day long."

Ingram leans in over the counter in the front of the DX. The place is clean. The receipts, the pens, the work order slips are all stacked neatly. His grandfather would have approved. Ingram decides he approves.

Not that he really has much choice. They'll send him back on a parole violation if he doesn't find employment, and the railroad won't take him with a manslaughter conviction. Too much moving back and forth across state lines, his P.O. told him when Ingram asked.

"What kind of work do you think you're suited for, Mr. Walker?" The parole officer had asked him. He flipped back and forth through Ingram's strange and very thin file. One drunk and disorderly on his eighteenth birthday, and then- bam!- a year later, manslaughter and armed robbery. When he looked across the desk at Ingram Walker he saw a greaser and a hood, to be sure, but one who spoke with the quiet and almost bashful demeanor of a southern gentleman.

Ingram Walker's blue eyes had glimmered just a little then. "I'd suspect brain surgery is out."

The parole officer nods in agreement. The one isn't trying to be a smart ass, like a million other ex-cons his age who have sat in that same chair. He's being friendly. He has a self-deprecating sense of humor. The fact that his humor is anything less than sociopathic makes him a different kind of fish than the P.O. is used to dealing with.

"I suspect it is," the P.O. replies. "You have a GED…"

"By the skin of my teeth."

The P.O. frowns. "You want to tell me about that?"

"I don't read good," Ingram says. "They don't stick in my head- words written down."

The P.O. nods. Someday, he's going to do research and write a book, he keeps telling himself, about all the young men he's heard say that and how they inevitably are swallowed and spit out by the justice system.

"What are you good at, in your opinion?"

"Cars. Bikes. Tractors and blenders, as far as that goes. Motor's a motor. I just prefer cars."

"Really? I may have something for you then, Mr. Walker. I have a friend who owns a gas station. Why don't I put in a call and send you over to meet him?"

And so the call was made.

Ingram looks up, but continues to lean on the counter when the boy comes up from the back.

"What do you need?" The boy asks. He seems irritated by something, but Ingram can't imagine why it would be with him.

"Ellis in?" Ingram asks. He taps his unlit cigarette on the counter and looks the boy over.

"Nope. Gone for the day. Are you the one who's supposed to be applying for days?"

"Yes," Ingram says and straightens up. He extends his hand to the boy. "John Walker. Go by Ingram, though. Do I need to fill something out?"

The other shakes Ingram's hand. "Steve Randle. Sounds like it's pretty much a done deal. Your P.O. talked to Ellis already. You got a phone?"

Ingram shakes his head.

"I don't know, man. He'll be back on Monday morning. You can come back then. Soda's back there now, if you want to meet him. He works days."

Ingram nods. He turns to look back out the window at Duane. Duane is waiting at the pump, leaning against the rear fender of his Plymouth. He has somehow lured the two girls back and now he's chatting them up about something. The little blonde is pushing her unruly hair back from her face in the way that girls do when want you to believe they're shy. Ingram smiles, not believing it for a second. Duane and Nicky always knew how to reel them in.

"Come on back, then," Steve says.

When he moves to follow Steve behind the counter, the blonde looks up and squints through the window at him. He nods head towards Duane's back and then gives the girl a forbidding wave of his finger. She cracks a grin and turns away.

Ingram tucks his cigarette behind his ear and goes to meet Sodapop.

_The road's too long to mention  
Lord, it's something to see  
Laid down by the Good Intentions Paving Company_


	6. Will Not Be Your Fool

SE Hinton and Francis Ford Coppola own The Outsiders and the boys in the Pines parking lot. This is where I get off insisting that they're cannon. In the parking lot scene, Nicky and Vaughan are the guys fighting with the Mexican hitchhiker. Ingram is the dark-haired one working on the motorcycle. Duane is in the car next to him, the one Dally stops to talk to. Beyond the fringe, indeed.

David Bromberg sings "Will Not Be Your Fool". Thanks, Ginger. Peace and love.

Six- Will Not Be Your Fool

_If a plaything is all you want me for_

_You can get up, go out and get yourself another boy_

"You fellas are getting a little old for this, aren't you?" The cop says to Duane and Ingram as he helps Duane's brother, Nicky, into the back of the squad car next to Vaughan.

Behind his sunglasses Ingram rolls his eyes. The side of his mouth curls up in a much of a sardonic smile as he can manage with the ever-present cigarette stuck between his lips. Duane ignores the cop. He wiggles his fingers in a "toodle-loo" goodbye to Nicky, who flips him the bird in return. Duane turns away, laughing. Funny gesture, he thinks, from a guy who expects him to come up with bail money.

The officer gets in behind the wheel of the squad car and drives off without further comment. Ingram waits for the dust to clear before kneeling back down to look at the engine of an Indian Apache, which is exactly what he had been doing before Nicky started the fight with the Mexican and the waitress at the Pines called the cops.

Duane leans up against the door of his Plymouth facing Ingram. He wishes Ingram would put out that cigarette. One day, he is certain that boy is going to blow himself up. Always got a smoke stuck in his mouth and his head stuck in an engine. Ingram is a wizard with anything that has a motor in it, but he can't seem to get it through his skull that "gas combustion engine" carries with it the implication that the thing could combust.

"Johnnie Walker," Duane calls to Ingram. Ingram raises his eyebrows. "Walker, what do you say? You about done feeling up that Indian? Time to take a ride?"

Ingram flicks his spent cigarette butt out into the parking lot. Without pausing for even a single breathe of clean air, he fishes another out of his jacket and lights up.

"What for? Ain't even close to dark yet. Ain't nobody going to be there until dark, fucker. It's a drive-in movie."

Ingram's logic is sound, but Duane is feeling more anxious since his brother's arrest. It could be a good thing, Nicky and Vaughan being in the cooler on the night that Duane and Ingram plan to jump ship to the Shepard gang. Vaughan being locked up means Gary is in charge, and Gary being in charge means that not much will happen in the way of serious business. Gary is a nervous guy, and probably with good reason. He knows his days are numbered as Vaughan's second-in-command. That job is probably going to Nicky, who is more calculating and blessed with ruthlessness.

On the other hand, Duane thinks to himself, Vaughan and Nicky's absence means that he and Ingram just moved up in the ranks. If Gary was to decide that he wanted to do something, he might call on them to help him accomplish it. Duane decides to test the waters.

"Gary Dean, what's on for tonight?"

Gary's head snaps around and he looks wide-eyed at Duane as though he is being squeezed at the middle. Then he blinks, and glares at Duane with contempt for daring to ask.

"Fuck if I know. Why don't you go bail your brother and ask him? Shit, man, I was just going to cruise for chicks until that asshole screwed it all up."

Duane nods. _Well played, Gary._ _You're a lion among men._ "Chicks are good. Maybe we should all just cruise for chicks."

Gary wrinkles his nose at Duane for daring to make the suggestion. Now it looks like Duane is giving orders and not him. In an attempt to save face, he snarls, "why don't you just go do that, Mitchell, and take Walker with you?"

"Should I take Walker with me?" Duane asks him, just to be a pain. He is sure he hears Ingram mutter, "how's about I go with him," into the engine of the Indian.

Gary curses them both and turns towards The Pines to get himself another drink and to put the screws to the waitress who called the cops in. Duane kicks dust at Ingram.

"Gary thinks we should go cruising for chicks, Johnnie Walker. You think we should go do that?"

Ingram grins and stands up, shaking his head. "Well, if that's what Gary thinks."

"You know Gary, buddy. He's a thinker."

"Well then, who are we to not follow the sage advice of Gary?"

"Chicks it is, then. Your place or mine?" Duane nods to Ingram's car.

"Follow me on home. We'll leave yours there."

Duane nods. He should probably catch a shower over at Ingram's. Through some act of mercy or- more likely- mishandling of paperwork by the Santa Fe Railroad, Ingram has been allowed to stay in his grandfather's cabin. Ingram has moved himself into the single bedroom, and Duane has been sleeping on Ingram's sofa. He likes it there. It's cleaner than at his parent's place, and there's no one to complain about them having the occasional drink or twelve. Still, he feels like he needs to ask before he takes a shower or brings a girl back.

Just as Duane is sliding into the seat of his Plymouth, Gary returns from inside The Pines. He clamps his hand down on Duane's door and demands of him, "where the hell are you going?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Duane snaps, knowing full well that Gary is devoid of a sense of humor.

"Quit fucking with me, Mitchell."

"Who's fucking with you, man? You just told me…" Duane stops. He looks straight into Gary's eyes, into his cavernous pupils, and knows this conversation is going nowhere. "What do you need, Gary?"

Gary twitches and stands up straight again. He takes his hand off of Duane's door and says, "Nothing. Don't need nothing. I'll see y'all later."

"Yeah, later."

Duane throws it in reverse and peals out of the parking lot. Around the corner, Ingram has pulled over and is waiting for him. He gives Ingram a little wave, and they continue on towards the rail yard.

That cop was goddamned right: Duane is getting to be too old for this.

* * *

Pauline and Kathy step up to the ticket window, simultaneously producing coin purses from the pockets of their coats. Before they can pay up, an arm reaches between them, and lays the money on the counter.

Two-Bit says to Pauline, "I got this."

She turns and eyes him warily. He's buzzed; she can see it in his eyes. It might not be noticeable to anyone else, but she's all too familiar with that glimmer. She says, "Thanks," softly, even though his gesture irritates the hell out of her. She can't put a finger on his motives. She knows his paying for their tickets is going to set Kathy's mind a-spinning. Does this mean it's a date? Is it still a date if he's also paying for his own sister? And- if it just became a date- Pauline wonders, is she about to get ditched by the both of them?

She looks over at Kathy, who is pressing her lips together hard to keep from beaming. The light drains out of her face abruptly when Two-Bit takes his own ticket and says, "See y'all later." He walks past them into the drive-in lot, producing a can of beer from his inside jacket pocket as he strolls into the crowd.

"Son of a bitch," Pauline whispers. She yanks Kathy's arm and pulls her away from the counter. Kathy digs her heels into the gravel like an ornery goat.

"What was that?"

"He's an asshole," Pauline tells her. "He's just as damned manipulative as my dad. He just wants to make sure he has your attention so that he can fuck with your head. He's just a drunk, and that's what they do. They're both just drunks."

Kathy frowns at her. "Where did that come from?"

"What do you mean 'where did that come from'? It came from that-"she gestures in the direction of the ticket booth. "You got to just not play the game, man. Take his money, tell him goodnight, and let's you and me go have a good time."

"I mean where did the thing about your dad come from? Is he back?"

"No, he ain't back. I just…when I get home tonight, I'm going to get grounded till the end of time for skipping school, something that Two-Bit does all the time. Oh, but it's cute when Two-Bit does it. Just like it's cute when Two-Bit leaves the house a wreck or Two-Bit needs money 'cause he don't have a job. My mom spent half her life cleaning up after my dad, and now she thinks I'm going to fall in step and help her clean up after my brother. I'm sick of them both."

Kathy ducks her head for a moment. When she looks up at Pauline again, she's smiling. "I'm sorry. I still like him."

Pauline rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I still like my old man, too."

They hook arms at the elbows and jump to the side to avoid a Mustang that is creeping through the crowd towards the parking area.

"You want to sit or cruise?" Kathy asks.

"I don't know. What's the movie?"

"Some beach thing. Scantily clad women in foolish situations for the amusement of the patriarchy. Ought to be right up your alley, Paulie."

"Damn, you're catching right on. I think I've had enough for one day, though. Let's walk."

With their admission paid for, Pauline and Kathy have money for candy. They purchase sodas and Junior Mints at the concession stand and find an empty spot on a picnic table nearby to sit and watch the crowd. Curly Shepard and couple of members of Tim's entourage stroll by. Pauline tosses a mint and clocks Curly in the side of the head. He turns, ready to pummel whoever threw the offending candy, but cracks a grin and raises a finger when he sees it's just her.

"Hey, Paulie." He breaks from his cohorts, and lopes over to her.

"Hey, Curly. What's going on?"

Kathy wrinkles her nose. She does not approve of Pauline's association with Curly. She thinks he's a goof, and she has accused Pauline of only maintaining a friendship with Curly to stay on Tim's radar.

"Same old." Pauline shrugs. "How are things in Shepard World?"

Before he can answer, Kathy nudges Pauline and whispers, "I'm going to go freshen up."

She hops down off of the table, casting a disapproving eye at Curly- who nods and smiles at her with over-blown politeness- and walks off towards the restrooms. Curly takes her seat on the table next to Pauline.

"Shepard World is swinging, let me tell you. Nah, ain't shit going on. Seen Dally and a couple of your brother's little buddies roaming around. Your brother here?"

"Yes. Yes, he is." Pauline grumbles. Two-Bit is coming towards her again. He is more drunk now, but not quite reeling. Yet. He sneers at Curly, and jerks his thumb, indicating that Curly should get off of the table. Curly obeys, and Two-Bits takes his seat.

"She's too old for you, Shepard," Two-Bit tells him, "and too wise in the ways of love."

"I'm wise in the ways of love," Curly protests.

Two-Bit nods past Curly's shoulder. The Shepard gang members he was walking around with before have made the loop and returned. Two-Bit wiggles his fingers, indicating that Curly should scurry along.

Curly winks at Pauline, and says, "Duty calls."

She waves to him with a weak smile. When he is gone, she turns her attention to her brother.

"Little sister."

"Idiot." Pauline peers sideways at him, and takes his can of beer. It's warm, but she takes a drink anyway.

Two-Bit attempts to snatch it back, but she holds it out of his reach. "Hey, you can't have that."

"So, I'm too old for Curly, but I'm too young for beer. Where does that leave me?"

Two-Bit shrugs. He lets her take another sip and then reclaims the can. "Shit, you can have Curly if you want, Miss-Miss. I'd have thought you'd had enough the Shepard clan, but I guess that's none of my business."

Pauline sticks her tongue out at him. "Since we're delving into one another's business…"

"Awww, shit…" he mumbles and takes a long drink.

"Yeah, that's right. So have you been following us around all this time waiting for Kathy to fly off? I couldn't help but notice you reappeared quite quickly as soon as she left."

"Give me a little credit, kid. Maybe I was just being a watchful big brother. I saw you over here alone, and then I saw you alone with Shepard. I was looking out for your welfare."

"You're a prince, Two-Bit. Sit up straight and act nice. She's coming back."

Two-Bit does, indeed, sit up straight. He vacates his seat at the table for Kathy to sit down, but she continues to stand.

"On your lonesome tonight, Two-Bit?" She asks.

Two-Bit cocks his eyebrow. Pauline watches his face. He's thinking. He's trying to choose his words so as not to say anything mean. He does this with their mom. He'll want to say something flippant to her, but he just can't. The beer is muddling his thought processes, though. Pauline gets the anxious feeling that something very stupid is about to slip out of his mouth.

"Now, come on, baby…" is all he has.

"Baby? Oh, am I your baby? Or, is that 'baby' in just the general sense? I have the potential to be your baby just like any of the rest of these girls wandering around here tonight?"

Pauline raises her eyebrows and wonders who lit a fire under Kathy. It was probably her. After spending the afternoon with Pauline being the subject of her feminist photography project, Kathy has decided that she is ready to take Two-Bit to the mat.

Two-Bit goes to the mat all too quickly for Pauline's liking. "Nah, come on, Kathy, you know you got way more potential than that."

"Really? Do I? Then why have you been blowing me off all week?"

"Because he's an asshole…" Pauline reminds her quietly.

"Shut up, Pauline," Two-Bit snaps.

"No. Thanks for reminding me, Paulie. I think you're probably right. You were here telling me all along, but I had to see it for myself. Now that it's standing right in front of me, in all of his sloppy-drunk glory, it's a perfectly clear."

"Glad I could be there for you," Pauline mumbles. She is looking at Two-Bit, who is glaring at her.

"Goddamnit, Pauline," he says. He turns back to Kathy. "Listen, baby…Listen, Kathy, I don't know what she told you. How about you and I take a walk and have a chat just the two of us. We'll have a drink…"

"No, thanks, Two-Bit. You've had plenty anyways, and I think I've had plenty of you." Kathy sighs heavily. She's running out of steam. And, yeah, she still likes him. She wants him to still like her. She wants to run and see if he'll follow, as cheap a trick as she knows that is. She can't come up with anything else. She looks at Pauline.

"I think I've just had enough. I'm going to see if I can find Marty and catch a ride." She scans the crowd quickly for any sign of her brother, and then looks back at Pauline. "Mad at me?"

"I'll take it out on him," Pauline says and shrugs. Kathy nods and hurries off into the crowd.

Pauline turns to Two-Bit, but he is already making his escape. He tosses his empty beer can at a trash barrel, and misses. He shakes his head, a little disappointed in himself, and begins to make his way towards the parked cars and the screen.

…_I took that class_

_I graduated Phi Beta goddamn Kappa from that school_

_I'll be your lover or your friend darling_

_But I'm never, ever, ever gonna be your fool_


	7. Slash Your Tires

SE Hinton owns Tim and Curly Shepard and The Outsiders. "Slash Your Tires" is a song by Luna that I have been waiting forever to be able to work into a chapter, for obvious reasons. Ingram is singing along to "The End of the World" by Skeeter Davis.

Seven- Slash Your Tires

_No point in screaming_

'_Cause I'm only dreaming_

_That you came to pieces_

_And I came in peace._

Pauline picks up a clod of dirt and hurls it as hard as she can at her brother's back. She pegs him square between the shoulders, but he must already be at that feeling-no-pain stage because he doesn't even turn back to cuss at her.

She sighs heavily and looks around. Kathy is long gone. She sees Tim Shepard, though, standing with his back to her, staring at his car. She hates that she still can't look at Tim without her heart fluttering just a little. Maybe this is why she still speaks to him at all. Every time she sees him, she dares herself, and hopes the feeling will dull just a little with repeated exposure.

Pauline walks over to Tim and gives him a shove on the shoulder. To her surprise, he wheels around to face her as though she had jabbed him with something hot. His eyes are aglow and his nostrils are flaring with rage. When he sees it's her, he at least takes his hand off of the blade in his pocket. His face, however, doesn't soften a bit. He turns back to his car.

"Jesus, what's up your ass?" Pauline asks him.

Standing next to him and following his glare to the car, the answer is pretty obvious. The tires are flat- all of them. Even lit only by the giant movie screen across the lot, Pauline can see that they were pretty new tires. The shadows between the treads are still deep and dark.

"Dally," Tim answers her without really thinking about how that sounds.

Pauline smirks. "Damn, I should've known it. So, you threw me over for Dally."

"I ain't in the mood, Paulie."

"Well, what'd you do to Dally, Creep-Show?"

"I didn't do shit to Dally. I'm going to do some shit to Dally, though. Goddamn, when I catch that little son of bitch…" His voice trails off. He's plotting.

"How do you know it was Dally?"

Tim snaps at her. She is interrupting his train of thought. "Because Curly saw him. For Christ's sake…"

_Subtext: Are you calling Curly a liar?_ Pauline rolls her eyes and then looks around for Curly. She needs to score a couple of joints for her impending house arrest, and she knows Curly will be holding.

"Where is little Curly anyways?"

Tim shakes his head. She has brought him back from his internal schemes again. God, she pisses him off. He looks at her for the first time since she snuck up on him. She looks cute. Her hair is up. She's wearing earrings. Her ears are actually pierced when most of the girls he knows wear clip-ons. Why is he thinking about Pauline's ears? He has his revenge on Dally to dream up. God, Pauline pisses him off.

"If you see him," he tells her, hoping she will take the hint and go off to find him, "tell him I'm looking for him. And don't go buying any dope off of him. He'd better not have any. Goddamnit…"

"I'll make sure he doesn't have any when he gets back to you, Shepard. Have a lovely evening."

"Fuck…Fuck off, Paulie," Tim grumbles and then regrets it. He adds, "Take it easy, kid," but she is already gone.

* * *

Tim Shepard has reached an almost Zen-like state with his rage. After tramping halfway across the drive-in to rattle absolutely jack shit out of Pauline's brother and the smallest of the Curtis gang twerps, he has returned to his car with his plan straight in his mind. He will find Dally himself, most likely at Bucks, and he will take care of him without fanfare. If it's attention Dally wants, then Tim refuses to give it to him. He's going to beat him senseless, to be sure, but not inside the bar, not where anyone will be watching. Dally doesn't deserve that.

Tim cracks his neck and looks up at the sky. The problem now is how he will get to Bucks to impose this justice upon Dallas Winston. He should've hit Pauline's brother up for a ride. Or maybe Pauline. How the hell did she get here?

Tim becomes aware of footfalls in the gravel coming up behind him with intent. He shakes finding a ride out of his mind and- again- reaches for his knife.

"Anything we can help you with there, Shepard?"

"Not unless you got three more spares tucked behind your ears." Tim cocks his head to look up at Duane Mitchell. Ingram Walker is with him. Tim had heard that Walker was out of the joint, but this the first he's seen of that spooky, hillbilly son of bitch in a couple of years.

"Who did you piss off, if I can ask? Don't seem like the work of a disgruntled girlfriend."

Tim smirks and- again- leaves his blade in his pocket. "You'd be surprised. Is there something I can help y'all with?"

"There might very well be," Duane replies. Tim looks back and forth between Duane and Ingram. Thus far, Ingram hasn't said a word. He's smoked down half a cigarette and stood with his hands in his back pockets, keeping an eye on passers-by.

"How's life on the outside treating you, Walker?" Tim asks.

Ingram takes his cigarette out from between his lips. "It's going alright."

Tim can't get a read on Ingram or his motives, but he senses no threat from Duane. Duane Mitchell is a big guy. He out-weighs Tim, is known to carry a heater, and must stand six inches taller, but his bemused grin and the glint in his eyes tells Tim that neither he nor Walker is looking for a fight.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" Tim asks, more to Duane than to Ingram.

"Well, I was going to suggest we go for a ride," Duane scratches his nose in an attempt to disguise his grin. "And we still could. How's about you and me and Johnnie Walker…one of your distinguished colleagues, if you want…take a ride and hunt down a few spare tires?"

Tim frowns up at Duane. So, this is a friendly mission. His gang and the River Kings have never been friendly. To clarify is suspicions, he asks, "What's this got to do with your buddy Vaughan?"

"Not a goddamned thing," Duane replies. "It's just me and Walker."

Tim nods. He turns and snaps his fingers at a couple of guys who are leaning against the drive-in's chain link fence just within earshot. Against his better judgment, Tim tells them to go find Curly. Might as well take Curly. How much more surreal could this night possibly get?

"Sounds good. Let's go steal some tires."

* * *

The four of them ride in near-silence in Ingram's car until they get clear of the lights from the drive-in. Ingram is humming softly to Skeeter Davis on the radio, which Curly thinks is pretty damned funny, but knows better than to point out.

Finally, just when Curly thinks he might explode with curiosity, Tim- who is sitting up front with Ingram- turns back and says to Duane, "So what's going on with the Kings? Something ain't sitting right with you, I take it."

"Yeah, that's about the size of it. I think you know what's going on with the Kings."

"Think they're big time dope dealers now, yeah."

"Yeah, and that just ain't something I got an interest in. Walker neither."

Ingram nods in agreement. He turns the radio off, but continues singing quietly to himself, "I wake up in the morning and I wonder…"

Tim frowns at him, shakes his head slightly, and turns back to Duane. Duane continues:

"We're looking to jump ship. We figure maybe you could make some use of us, and in exchange you could extend to us some of the comforts of membership in the Shepard Empire."

"You mean, my guys could watch your back and keep Vaughan from killing you."

"More or less."

Curly watches Tim's face. If it was up to him, Curly would want nothing to do with these guys, or anything that would bring him any closer than necessary to the River Kings. Everyone knows how the River Kings operate. Everyone knows what kind of guy Ingram Walker is- the kind who would bust an old man's head open with the butt of a gun. It isn't so much that he's afraid of them, Curly tells himself, it's that they're too much competition for him. He wants to show Tim that's he's bigger, better, tougher than the other guys, but he doesn't stand a chance standing in the shadow of Duane and Ingram.

Curly knows he's sunk- and aware that he sighs audibly- when Tim says, "remind me what I'm getting out of this again?"

"You're about to get four new tires," Ingram mumbles, guiding the car slowly to the curb and parking it in front of a hapless, waiting Buick.

Curly is as conflicted with himself as he can ever remember being. Wary as he is of these guys, Ingram and Duane are about to jack up a car and steal all of its tires on a main artery in Tulsa without so much as looking over their shoulders to see who's watching.

Ingram puts the car in park and looks back at Curly. "Get the jack out the trunk, buddy."

Against his better judgment, Curly is charmed. Ingram is calling him 'buddy' and asking for his assistance. He hops out on to the street. Ingram pops the trunk and gets out of the car. He circles the Buick lazily and then waits on the curbside for Curly to bring him the jack.

Tim and Duane get out. Tim watches Curly for a second and then confronts Duane with his final reservation: "What about your brother? You ready to turn on him, if need be?"

Duane snorts. "Nicky? Fuck, you know how many times that little prick has turned on me? Not a problem. This here's my brother…"

He nods towards Ingram, who is squatting next to the front right tire of the Buick, unscrewing the nuts with lightening speed and tossing them in the hubcap he has Curly holding for him. The tire comes off, and Ingram rolls it to Duane who puts in the trunk of Ingram's car. The other three tires follow in quick succession.

They leave the Buick sitting on its frame and speed off into the night. Curly Shepard closes his eyes and lays his head back on the seat, marveling at what a thing of beauty he has just been part of. When Ingram turns the radio back on and begins to sing along with the Rolling Stones, Curly cannot help singing to himself too.

_You're always posing_

_And I was imposing_

_But I turned the tables_

_And I'm feeling fine_


	8. What Little Girl

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "What Little Girl" is a song by Frankie Avalon, albeit not one of the songs featured in "Beach Blanket Bingo" or "Muscle Beach Party", the double feature playing at the Nightly Double.

Duck and cover- not only is this chapter fraught with OC madness, it may also slip into M-rating territory. There are body parts mentioned. Sexual situations lie ahead.

Eight- What Little Girl

_What little girl's gonna hold me tight_

_What little girl's gonna kiss me right_

Ingram can't believe his luck. It's the girl from the DX, the blonde with mischievous grin. She's taking a hit off of Curly Shepard's joint. She, Curly, and a couple other Shepard gang members are huddled in the shadows on the far side of the concession stand. The girl inhales and holds it like a pro. She gives Curly a quick "thank you" nod and then steps out into the light again, breathing out smoke.

Ingram stands up from where is leaning against the trunk of his car. He's feeling calmer since the conversation with Tim and their return to the Nightly Double, maybe even a little cocky. He'd like to step over to the concession stand for a little celebratory smoke of what Curly's pushing, but he doesn't want to lose sight of the girl.

She has stopped and is looking around, presumably for her friends. He whistles at her. She looks at him, confused for a second, and then points to herself. Ingram nods and walks towards her.

"What's going on, baby?"

"Not much. I seem to have lost my friend."

He looks in the direction of Curly and the others in their hiding spot. "Those ain't your friends over there?"

"I came with a different friend," she says, smiling because she knows she's been busted smoking with the Shepard boys. "So, you're obviously enthralled by the movie. What are you doing?"

"Ah, my buddy wandered off in search of female companionship. A beach movie ain't any fun if you don't got someone to pretend you're cuddled up on the beach with."

"If then."

Ingram grins. Curly is watching them from the shadows. Ingram can see his silhouette. He says to the girl, "you want to get some popcorn? I'd guess you're going to be feeling a might bit peckish in a few minutes here."

She shrugs and he holds out his hand to shake hers.

"Ingram."

"Pauline. You were at the DX today."

"I was that. I guess I work there."

"You guess?"

"I start on Monday. Wasn't much of an interview process."

Pauline nods, following him into the concession stand. She waves to Ponyboy Curtis, who is standing in line with the redheaded cheerleader she had intimidated in the Will Rodgers second floor restroom that morning. Ponyboy sees Pauline out of the corner of his eye. She mouths, "Nice," at him and his ears turn red. He turns away.

Pauline turns back to Ingram. She is at a loss what to say to him, so she looks him over the way she would if she had her camera around her neck- her head tilted slightly downward as if she is looking back and forth between reality and viewfinder.

He's older than her brother. His hair might have a hint of red to it, but the pomade darkens it. It's his movements that she likes, and she puzzles how she would capture him on still film. His tone is loose and easy-going. He bounces a little when he walks. She likes the juxtaposition: he looks so rough, but he moves with the grace and distraction of a small child singing to himself on the playground.

Ingram hands her the popcorn. Pauline sticks her tongue out at Ponyboy as they pass him, but Pony is talking a mile a minute to the cheerleader and doesn't even notice.

"This way," Ingram says. His car is parked near the edge of the lot with the other greaser cars. He opens the passenger door for her and she gets in. He walks around to the other side, peering in the backseat as he does as though he expects someone to be there.

Pauline nods towards the screen. "You seen this one?"

"Ain't been to a movie in a while," he says and smiles like there's some kind of private joke in it.

"Me neither. A friend recommended it."

"This your kind of movie?"

"No, she thought I'd hate it."

Ingram grins. "Some friend."

"She thought I'd hate it because all the girls are so dumb, and I sort of like to complain about that."

He raises an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but she doesn't. Suddenly, Pauline feels self-conscious and afraid of saying too much. What is so easy to explain to Kathy seems childish when she thinks about saying it to Ingram.

Ingram looks back to the screen and frowns at it for a minute, taking it in.

After a while he says, "The perils of Pauline."

"What?"

"That old time movie- 'The Perils of Pauline'. It's the same plot. Annette and her tits there are supposed to be all helpless and getting in over their head. Don't know how this one ends, but Pauline always got herself out of whatever she got in to. Pauline was a tuff little broad."

He winks at Pauline and tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth, sure that she must be impressed.

The backdoors of the car open and a girl Ingram doesn't know bounces in followed by Duane. Ingram rolls his eyes. Now that Duane is finally back, Ingram wishes he'd make himself scarce. Duane and the girl don't even acknowledge Ingram and Pauline. They disappear, giggling, behind the seat.

Pauline cocks her eyebrow. "Awkward?"

"Don't have to be," Ingram repliesand slides over towards the middle of the seat. When she doesn't protest, he pulls her into his lap. She still doesn't protest, and he so scoots them both over to the passenger side. He slips his jacket over her shoulders, covering them both up.

"There," he says. "Now I'm ready to watch a beach movie."

"Uh huh," Pauline smiles and nestles herself down. She lays her head on his shoulder and they watch the movie in silence for almost 10 seconds before Ingram tilts her face towards his with his thumb and kisses her.

Her free hand reaches up and grazes his chin. She slides it around to the back of his neck and into his dark hair. Beneath the safety of his jacket, Ingram feels for the buttons of her blouse. He undoes the first few, just enough to slip his hand inside and underneath her bra. He waits for rebuff, but she arches her back slightly pushing her breast into his palm. Ingram pushes back, and she kisses him harder.

"What you want to do, baby?" He says softly, hopefully softly enough that Duane and his girl can't hear.

"This is good," she whispers back.

"Yeah? And what else?"

Ingram takes his hand out of her blouse and drops it down to her hip. He tugs her skirt up until he can feel her bare hip and the hem of her panties. Again, he pauses. Still, no protest. Ingram pushes her down on to her back. He takes her hand from his shirt collar and begins leading it down his body with the intention of helping it find its way inside his jeans. She shows no sign of resisting until a wave of raucous laughter and voices near the car causes her body to tense up.

"Shit," she whispers and tries to sit up. "Shit, that's my brother."

Ingram pushes against her and buries his face back in the crook of her neck, laughing . "You brother? He bigger than me?"

"I don't think so. I don't know. He's just kind of a buzz kill. I ruined his evening earlier. I'm sure he's itching to return the favor."

"Then we'd better stay down," Ingram says, but he pulls away to look at her. She is frowning and looking up towards the window.

"Who's your brother again?" Ingram asks, although she hasn't told him to begin with.

"Keith Mathews. Two-Bit."

"No shit? You're Two-Bit's sister?" Duane's voice comes from the backseat. "Forgot he had one."

Ingram racks his brain. He's sure he's met Two-Bit Mathews. Runs with the Curtis boys, all those kids from the DX station. Yeah, he was at the DX this afternoon. Carries a mean blade. Never a dull or sober moment with that guy, and he can't quite seem to get himself out of high school. All those kids, save for Sodapop Curtis, are in high school.

Ingram asks, "So are you Two-Bit's older or younger sister?"

"I'm his only sister."

"I'm asking how old you are, baby."

"I'm seventeen."

"Aww, shit. Mitchell did you know that?"

"I told you, it slipped my mind."

"What? What's the big deal?" Pauline glares at Ingram, turning his face back to hers with her fingers. She is suddenly very intent on finishing what they've started. "Seventeen's legal."

"Maybe so, but- darling- I'm on parole. I just got out of the joint, and I…"

"You're on parole?" Duane's companion pops up from the back seat. She peers over at Ingram and then back at Duane. "What for? What's he on parole for?"

Duane gives Ingram a pleading look, but Ingram sees his opportunity for revenge for Duane's withholding of Pauline's age and says with a smile, "Armed robbery and manslaughter. I pled down from second-degree murder."

"I pled down from second degree…" Duane mimics him in a little voice. "Sugar-coat it a little more, will you, Walker?"

"Who is this guy, Duane?" The girl asks. She is sitting up on the edge of the seat, fixing her hair and straightening her blouse. Most likely, she isn't going to stick around for an elaborate answer.

"He's my buddy. It's okay. He's okay, baby. Just ignore him."

Ingram turns his attention back to Pauline, who he can see is hovering on the fine line between pouting and truly pissed off.

"Girl, you got to understand," he begins, knowing full well that she isn't going to understand. "Sure it's legally old enough, but it's how it looks. I can't be cruising around with high school girls. It gets back to my p.o. and I start to look a little creepy…"

"_I'd_ make _you_ look creepy? Fine then. Let's make sure there's nothing to get back to your p.o." She says and wiggles out from under him. She opens the car door and is out before Ingram can grab her back.

"Oh goddamnit," he mumbles. "Darlin', get back here. Let me give you a ride home."

He is answered by slam of the car door. Pauline walks away quickly- she's too cool to break into a full run while he can still see her- into the fray of cars and people leaving the drive-in.

The girl in the backseat announces, "I think I'm with her," and she too exits the car.

Duane smacks Ingram hard upside the back of the head.

"Nice goddamned work there, fucker. On behalf of everyone, I'd like to thank you for nominating yourself the moral compass for the vehicle this evening."

Ingram shakes off the sting of the blow. "You think this is how I intended to end the night? Shit…what are you going to do?"

"Ditch your dumb ass and see if I can't charm my way back up Sherrilyn's skirt. You going after the other one?"

Ingram nods. "I ought to at least give her a ride home."

_Oh, now that I found her  
I won't ever, ever let her go  
Cause now I know what girl's for me_


	9. She's A Girl and I'm A Man

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders, although none of them appear in this chapter. They'll all return, full force, in Chapter Ten. I promise. There will be Two-Bit, Steve, and Dally galore. For now, I give you Pauline, Ingram, and a song by Lloyd Cole.

Nine- She's A Girl and I'm A Man

_She's got to be the stupidest girl I've ever seen_

_She don't care who, where, why I've been_

Tracking her down is more difficult than Ingram had anticipated, but then she hardly seems like the type to head straight to the bowling alley and slide into a booth with her girlfriends to cry about it. No, she's going to go stew all by herself- this girl. She'll walk alone down the half-lit streets with her head down, kicking at something and making herself a perfect target in the process. All the more reason, Ingram figures, that he should find her and give her a ride.

Ingram spots her walking alone the chain link fence that surrounds the drive-in. She is, indeed, looking down and trailing her fingers along the fence. She at least has the presence of mind to sense that there is a car coming up slowly behind her. She turns, and when she sees whose car it is, she flips him off and keeps right on walking.

Ingram puts the Ford in park and shuts off the ignition. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, collects his thoughts, and gets out.

"Hey, girl, come on…"

She turns around to glare at him. Ingram squints to see if she's been crying. To his relief she has not.

"Do you even know my name?"

"Yeah, I know your name." He makes her wait for it, though, while he fishes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights up. He offers it to her and she shakes her head.

"Smoke, Pauline?" He asks.

"Not those."

"Oh, yeah? You got any of that?"

She frowns and drops her gaze as he takes a step closer.

"Yeah, just so happens that I do."

Ingram nods. "Listen, Pauline, I'm sorry about this. How's about you and I take a ride and smoke a jay, and when we're both a little more chilled out…"

"How is _that_ not a violation of your parole?"

"Just get in the car, smart ass." Ingram isn't losing patience, yet, but he's running out of ideas. Getting stoned with her is the best he can come up with for meeting her halfway. He chooses his next words carefully. Telling her she needs a ride home will only bring her claws out once again. Instead, he tells her, "I would like to give you a ride home."

In spite of himself, Ingram looks around for witnesses when she takes a step towards him at last and lets him put his arm around her shoulder. He does it again when he shuts the passenger door behind her. The night is full of teenagers and cops and cars, speeding past and stirring up dust, but everyone is caught up in their own thing. He decides that it might be quite possible for them to disappear.

Ingram pushes the lighter in and throws the car into drive. His sunglasses slide across the dash as the car begins to turn and Pauline catches them. She looks to him for some direction as to what to do with them, and- receiving none- she puts them in the glove box. The owner's manual is in there, along with a couple stray spark plugs, a pack of Camels, and a small Ruger handgun. Pauline shuts the glove box, making no indication that she saw the gun, although it would have been impossible to miss.

The lighter pops out and Ingram lights his cigarette.

"Well, then," he says, "do you want a ride on home or do you want to go for a ride?"

Pauline makes a quick assessment of Ingram Walker, and comes up empty. She knows what the tiny crown tattooed on the inside of his wrist means. She has heard plenty about the River Kings over the years, and has had just enough run-ins with their membership to know that it ain't all spook stories. Something about Ingram is telling her that the outer layer of sleaze is masking a much nicer guy, yet she has nothing concrete to base that on; she just wants to believe it real bad. She knows nothing for certain. Zero. He's just a guy with dark hair and blue eyes who likes to smoke and has wanted someone to make out with at the drive-in like everyone else.

She's still mad at Two-Bit and Tim and even a little mad at Kathy, and she doesn't want to go home yet. She wants to smoke a joint and avoid her mother a little while longer, so she decides to roll the dice with Ingram. If the inside handle on the passenger door of his car is in as pristine condition as the rest of it, she can jump if she really needs to.

"Let's drive," she says.

They cruise without speaking for a while. Ingram sings to himself along with the radio, which makes Pauline smile. When he catches her out of the corner of his eye, he furrows his brow and says, "What?"

"You. Singing."

"What about it? Am I that bad?"

"No, you're not too bad." She's confused by it more than anything. She can't tell if he's really that confident or that vacuous.

He gestures with his cigarette towards the ridge that rises above the port at Catoosa east of town. "You been up there?"

She nods. "Couple of times. Just during the day, though."

"It's pretty at night. Least that's the way I remember it. You can see the oil fields. Looks like the town's on fire. I want to see if it's still like that."

He isn't asking if she wants to go, and so Pauline doesn't argue. The car moves farther away from the lights of the city. The road turns to gravel, and Ingram guns the engine just as it does making the Ford fishtail a little.

They come to an open grassy spot next to a radio tower, and Ingram stops the car. Pauline pops the lighter back in and removes a pack of Lucky Strikes from her purse. She pushes aside the cigarettes she never smokes to find the joint she just bought off of Curly hidden in among them. The lighter pops back out. She sets the joint between her lips and speaks through it as she lights up.

"So, prison," She says. "I suppose I'd be remiss if I didn't ask about that."

Ingram grins. "I'd say you're a little remiss about waiting till now to ask, doll, seeing as I've got you all alone out in the country."

Pauline inhales and shrugs. She hands the joint over to him. Ingram nods towards the front of the car and inhales as he gets out. He gestures for her to come join him on the hood. Pauline gets out, leaving her door open so they can still hear the radio, and hops up beside him. Ingram blows smoke up at the sky.

"So…prison," she says again, prodding him.

"You want to know about the pen or you want to know why I was there?"

"Both, I guess. What's second-degree murder? That when it's not premeditated?"

He nods. "I didn't kill nobody, though. I was driving for Vaughan and them while they knocked some place over. I didn't even go inside. I was sitting on my ass in the car when he did it."

"When who did it? Vaughan?"

"I'd assume so," Ingram says and shrugs. "Just as likely it was Nicky, Duane's brother. He ain't nothing like Duane. Duane you got nothing to fear from."

Pauline frowns. She doesn't understand why he's telling her that. She takes another hit off the joint, holds it in, and then asks, "Was Duane there?"

"No. He was in the cooler for something, as I recall. He was unavailable. No, it was me and the River King royalty, and they talked my dumb ass into taking the fall for them." He leans back against the windshield, shaking his head. "I wish Duane had been there. He'd have never let me be so fucking stupid. Duane's got a lot more sense when it comes to his devotions. He questions stuff."

"How long were you there?"

"Couple of years. I got off easy, so they tell me."

Pauline frowns. She hands the joint back to him and stares out at the oil fires north of town. It does look like the city is on fire. It feels like a pit to hell has opened up and they're sitting on the edge of it. That seems about right for Tulsa, as far as she's concerned. All manner of hell is waiting for them both down there, and she has no desire to jump back in. Instead, she lies back next to Ingram and follows his gaze up to the stars. Looking into the pit no longer interests him either.

"Was it?"

"Was it what? Here, kill that, will you?" He returns the joint to her.

"Did you get off easy?"

"It was two years. Two years gone. I lost my granddad. I had a girlfriend when I left. Dropped me like a hot rock when I went in. She's married now and got one in the oven. Yeah, it was easy sitting still in there doing nothing. It's harder to come back. I ain't going back in, but I can see why some guys do it again and again. You lose your perspective, your sense of time."

Pauline flicks the end of the joint into the grass. She doesn't have anything to say, so she sits up and hugs her knees, looking again over the ridge at the city lights and the oil fires. From inside the car, she hears the deejay announce that it's almost midnight. Elvis is on the way, but first- nobody loves you like Etta James, babies.

Ingram sits up suddenly. "You dance, girl?"

"Sure," she replies. Her head spins a little when she hops down from the hood of the car. Ingram comes around to face her. He never stops moving, just picks up her hand and pulls her away from the car in time to the beat, taking small steps backwards until there's enough room to turn her around and snap her in close to him.

Pauline looks up at him, blinking. He's a good dancer; better than the boys at school. He knows it, too, because he's smiling back and the glint in his eyes isn't from being stoned. He is his element.

The Elvis that the deejay promised is a slow one, but Ingram doesn't let her go. He pulls her in close and drops his left hand down to her waist. She wraps her arms around his neck and lets him set the speed of their swaying.

In spite of herself, Pauline shivers a little.

"You cold, baby?" Ingram asks. "You want to get back in the car?"

She nods and he moves her back towards the Ford, stopping before she is pinned against the door.

Then he smiles and says in a quieter voice, "you want to hop in back?"

"Yeah," she says.

He opens the back passenger door and she ducks under his arm to crawl inside. He follows her, and when he slides in beside her, she is sitting up on her knees at his eye level. She cups his face in her hands and kisses him before he can get his hands into her hair.

_She's got a right to be with all that's wrong with me_

_But she doesn't want to understand that she's a girl and I'm a man_


	10. Our Whole Lives

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Our Whole Lives" is a song by The Hold Steady.

We can probably go back to a T rating now.

Nine- Our Whole Lives

_Father, I have sinned __and I want to do it all over again tonight…_

Pauline waits until Ingram's car disappears down the street before she starts up the walk towards her house. With him out of sight, she allows herself a moment of light-headed bliss- twirling around in the crisp morning air- before hopping up the porch steps.

"Don't go in there."

Two-Bit's voice makes her jump, and she nearly bites through her own tongue. She turns towards the sound, ready to lay into him, but when he stands up from the corner of the porch where he has been sitting in the dark, his solemn face stops her. His voice is weak and hollow. He almost seems to be begging her.

"Don't go in yet."

Pauline tries to tuck her hair behind her ears, to make herself look a little less like she's been rolled in the hay, but Two-Bit doesn't seem to notice. He takes her by the arm and leads her down the porch steps.

"Jesus, is Mom that pissed?"

"She's that pissed all right, but that's…shit, Paulie, Johnny Cade and Ponyboy killed a Soc last night."

"What?" Pauline can't reconcile the image of those two boys and the of killing anything in her head. The times she's been to the Curtis house, they've both nearly tripped over themselves trying to hide from her.

"I don't know what happened. I was with them last night. I walked 'em as far as Johnny's place, and then I came back here. I thought they'd go home. Then, just before sun-up, Stevie's tapping at my window. Darry and Soda are trying to find Pony, and then it comes on the radio that some South Side kid was found dead in the park."

Pauline shakes her head. "So what? That doesn't mean it had anything to do with Johnny and Ponyboy."

"Dally was with Steve…"

"Oh, shit," Pauline interrupts him. If Dallas Winston's entangled himself in it, then it can't be good.

Two-Bit seems to agree. "Dal said they came to him last night, early this morning. Johnny knifed a Soc, and he sent them packing, hiding out."

"Did he say where?"

"He said Mexico."

"Sounds like bullshit to me. What are Ponyboy and Johnny going to do in Mexico?"

Two-Bit turns away from her and kicks at a tree. "It's all my fault, Paulie. I should've stayed with them. These Socy assholes were bothering them at the Double last night. It must be the same guys- come looking for us after I left them. I should've just made sure they got home all right."

"Two-Bit, they did what they did. It ain't your fault. You had no way of knowing. Those dudes usually stay on their own side of town."

"There was a car-full of them over here just the other day. They jumped Pony. They've been creeping around all over the place lately. I should've known it was all coming to something."

They stand in silence for a moment. Pauline looks towards the house. There is no movement from inside, but she can see the glow from her mother's bedroom window. Pauline rubs her arms and hops up and down a little. The morning air is cold, and she can't believe she didn't notice it when she was with Ingram. She sighs quietly.

"What do you need me to do?" She asks Two-Bit.

"You ain't going to be able to do shit once you set foot in that house, but just promise me you'll go in anyway. Just stick around close to home for a while, Paulie. I don't want nothing to happen to you."

Pauline shrugs, non-committal. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I got to go find 'em-"

"In Mexico? You stupid fucker, if that's even where they are? You don't seriously believe Dally, do you? There ain't a single truthful word that's ever come out of his mouth…"

"I bet I can make a truthful word or two come out if I hit it hard enough."

"Yeah, good luck with that. Why don't you find out what Darry wants you to do? They're pretty tied with the social workers, aren't they? Maybe you can do something that Darry can't without getting them in any deeper."

"Like go looking for Pony and Johnny. I'm telling you, Paulie, that's what I need to do."

Pauline crosses her arms across her chest and stares hard at him for a moment, thinking. After a bit, she smiles and asks, "Take me with you?"

Two-Bit can't hope to stifle a grin. "Fuck no."

"Two-Bit, don't go. I mean, go and beat the shit out of Dally. Please, there are a million reasons why that needs to happen, but don't just run off to Mexico without knowing for sure. Go over to the house, and see what Darry needs from you first."

Before Two-Bit can protest further, the crunch of steps on the frosty grass makes them both turn. Instinctively, they step closer to one another and Two-Bit moves in front of his sister.

"Just us. Call off the dogs." Steve Randle steps towards them from the sidewalk. Dallas Winston is with him. Two-Bit takes a step forward when he sees Dally, but Pauline reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder and he stops.

"What's going on?" Two-Bit asks.

Steve nods towards Pauline. "Why don't you tell her to go inside?"

"I have a pretty pressing reason not to go inside at the moment," Pauline replies, glaring at Steve. "He already told me. And he told me you said they were in Mexico, Winston, which sounds like a fairy story to me."

Dally smirks at Pauline. "I also vote you go inside."

"Just give it a minute," Two-Bit says. "Paulie, if you want to stay here, pipe down, will you? Where you guys headed?"

Dally and Steve exchange looks. They had been headed to the Mathews house. The plan hadn't extended beyond that.

"I should go back over to Soda's," Steve says. He gestures to Dally. "This fucker should probably stay clear of there for the time being."

Two-Bit nods. "I'll go with you. Maybe we can be of some use to Darry. Get on in the house now, Paulie. I'll check back. Dal, see that she gets inside, okay?"

Pauline whispers, "oh, Jesus," under her breath. Dally rolls his eyes, but nods once to Two-Bit. Two-Bit gives his sister a light punch on the shoulder and then follows Steve down the block towards the Curtis house. Pauline turns to Dally.

He looks up from the cigarette he is lighting and interrupts her just as she is opening her mouth. "Just shut it, all right? He said to see you got in the house. You just going to go, or do you want me to drop-kick you in there?"

"Mexico? Come on, Dally. Don't let Two-Bit go running off on some wild-ass goose chase after them."

"Ain't my problem what Two-Bit decides to do or not do. If I told him they were in China, is it my fault if he starts digging a hole?"

"Have you met Two-Bit, Dally? Fuck yes, he would get a shovel and tear up the whole front yard if you said that's where they were. Can you at least point him in the right direction before he does that?"

Dally offers Pauline his cigarette and looks her over. She shakes her head and regards him with suspicion. She doesn't like Dallas Winston looking at her for any reason. She catches herself thinking about Ingram, wishing he was here, and then is annoyed with herself for wanting his protection.

"What?" She says.

Dally shakes his head. "I won't let him go to Mexico. All right? That sit all right with you? Why am I escorting you to the door anyway?"

"Because Two-Bit thinks I won't go in on my own."

"Why does Two-Bit think that?"

"Because it's six-thirty in the morning, and I haven't been home yet. My mom is not going to be happy."

"Be happy you have a mom," Dally says. He exhales smoke when he says it, and it obscures his face in the pale morning light. Pauline can't tell if he's serious when he says it or if he's just fucking with her. She'd tend to want to put her money on the latter, but it's hard to tell with Dally.

"Where were you all night anyway?" He asks. When she looks annoyed, he grins at her and says, "Come on, tell me. Practice your story before you get inside with your mommy. Maybe I can give you some pointers. I'm good with stories."

"I was driving around with a guy. We didn't go to Mexico, though. No reason to throw that in."

"Driving around? You get that from driving around?" He flicks her collar with his fingers, grazing the flesh where it starts to swell into her left breast. "That's classy, Pauline."

"Shit," she mutters and cranes her neck to see just how much of a hickey she's sporting. It's not too bad, but there's no way her mom is going to miss it. Pauline attempts to adjust her blouse. Dally watches her, shaking his head.

"I can still see it."

"Well, then quit looking down my shirt, asshole."

"So, who were you quote-unquote driving around with?"

"None of your business."

"Well, it wasn't Shepard because he was a Buck's being a bitch. This is going to break his heart, Paulie."

Pauline eyes Dally warily. Now she's sure he's jerking her around. She responds with the obvious, "Tim doesn't have a heart."

"You'd be surprised. Not that I give a shit." Dally shrugs. "You ain't going to tell me, huh?"

"I will if you tell me where you sent Johnny and Ponyboy."

"Not a chance." He jerks his thumb in the direction of the house. "Shall we? You can tell your mom you were out with me all night."

"And then I would never see the light of day again. Yeah, she'd love that, Dal." Pauline steps towards the door. When she stops and looks back, his eyes widen as if to say, "Go!"

"Dally…"

"Yeah, don't let Two-Bit go to Mexico. I got it. Good luck with your mom." He tugs at the collar of his jacket, queuing her to adjust her own collar again. When she makes an attempt, he cackles at her. Pauline glares at him, again tries to fix her collar, and then steps on to the porch towards certain doom.

_We're good guys, but we can't be good every night  
We're good guys, but we can't be good our whole lives_


	11. Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby" is song by The Rolling Stones.

Eleven- Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing In the Shadow?

_Have you seen your mother, baby, standing in the shadow?_

_Have you had another, baby, standing in the shadow?_

Her mother is leaning against the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. She is wearing a plaid bathrobe that had belonged to Pauline's father. He never wore it, but Pauline remembers him once telling her mother that she looked cute in it. Pauline's mother had giggled, and she continues to wear it, even after he stopped coming around.

Glenda Mathews looks across the room at the clock on the wall above the television set. It is almost a quarter to seven. She looks back to Pauline, who is fidgeting with her bra and her shirt collar, trying to hide that hickey on her chest. Glenda lets her try for a few moments, and then chokes out a quiet, "sit down" and gestures towards the sofa.

"I'm tired, Mama," Pauline's voice is also soft. She knows this isn't the time to be challenging her mother or asking for favors, but she feels so drained now since the news of Ponyboy and Johnny. She's almost forgotten about Ingram and what kept her from getting home in the first place.

"Really? I'm pretty God-awful tired myself, Pauline. Just sit down, and we'll get this over with."

Pauline sits down on the edge of the couch. It feels good to not be standing, and she scoots back further, curling her feet under her. She watches her mother pace a couple of steps and then stop. She waits for the delivery: the stories of what men are like, what they want, how they get it, and how all that could be avoided if Pauline would simply listen to her mother and be home by her curfew.

"Your principal called today, Pauline."

"He's the vice- principal. He's not the real principal." Pauline says and then grimaces. _Why can't she just stop herself?_

"He called because you took off from school before it even started this morning. Do you know what that means?"

Pauline can think of dozens of things that it might mean, but she decides that simply shaking her head might be the best course of action.

Glenda tells her, "It means that it's been almost 24 hours that I've had no idea where on God's green earth you've been. Looking at you now, I have a couple of guesses, but the truth of it is that I have no real idea."

Pauline sits and waits, unclear if this is an invitation to speak or not.

"It also means that I've had a good, long time to think about it, Pauline- what it means that I've lost my daughter for 24 hours."

"Mom, you didn't lose me. I'm here now. Nothing happened."

Her mother raises a hand to stop Pauline. She says, "First of all, from the looks of you, plenty happened. I don't know if it's happened before, and I probably can't stop it from happening again. I'm going to try, though, Pauline. I'm going to try to slow you down just a little bit."

Pauline hugs her knees to her chest. Her stomach is an empty pit. She wonders what it feels like to be pregnant. Her mouth goes dry at the thought.

"I guess I haven't been a very good mother," Glenda says and again waves her hand when Pauline begins to protest. "If I was a good mother, I'd know where my kids are. I'm batting fifty-fifty as we speak. I have no idea where Keith is, but I have you here, and so I'm going to tell you that I'm sorry I haven't been a good mother. I'm going to try harder, and you're probably not going to like it."

"Am I grounded?"

"You could say that. Or you could say that you and I are just going to get a whole lot closer. From now on, after school, you're coming to work with me. I can't trust you to come straight home if I'm not here to meet you, so I want you to come to Elaine's."

"What about the darkroom? I can only use the darkroom after school."

"Your fake principal says you have a study hall. He will give you a pass to use the darkroom then. You can use your time with me after school as your study hall."

Pauline nods down at the floor. "That it?"

"I want to meet him," Glenda says.

"Meet who?"

"The boy who did that," Glenda gestures to Pauline's throat. "A good mother would meet her daughter's boyfriend. I want to meet him."

Pauline presses her lips together hard. The word 'boyfriend' makes her feel cheap and foolish. He isn't her boyfriend. She doesn't even know his last name. She doesn't know how to find him again. All she knows for sure is that even he's convinced that he's too old for her. Pauline sighs.

"Okay," she says. "I'll tell him. I'll tell him to come by your work."

"Thank you," her mother says. "I'm going to bed now. Get there yourself."

* * *

"So, are we doing this?"

"Yeah, we're doing this…just…hold on, we're not doing quite that much…" Pauline wiggles free of the grip Kathy has on her ponytail. She positions her fingers a couple of inches farther down, indicating where Kathy should cut.

Kathy clucks at her like a chicken, grinning at their reflections in Pauline's dressing table mirror.

"Shut the hell up. It's curly. You know it's going to curl up even shorter once you take some off."

"As you wish," Kathy says with a shrug. She clamps Pauline's hair between her fingers again and resumes clucking.

"Jesus, you and Two-Bit are made for each other."

"Maybe so. You know he called me, right? He's obviously just torn up over this thing with Curtis and Johnny, but- yeah, he actually used the phone. Spoke to an operator and everything."

"Holy shit- check the window. See if there's four horsemen on the horizon."

"I know! It's supposed rain this afternoon. It'll probably rain blood or something. Okay, sit still now. I'm doing it." And she does it. Kathy clips through Pauline's hair bringing it from in between her shoulder blades up to her shoulders. She pulls out the rubber band and commences with evening up the ends.

"Did he ask you out then? Or just want to cry on your shoulder?"

"He both asked me out _and_ cried on my shoulder. It was quite an event."

"Well, you'll have to tell me all about it, as much as propriety allows." Pauline winks at her, and Kathy makes stabbing motions at her head with the scissors. "I'm going to have to live through you now, seeing as I'm going to be joined at the hip with my mom until I graduate."

"Really? Did she say that long?"

"She didn't really say at all. I'm not eighteen until April anyway. I get the feeling she's kind of pulling this out of her ass, though. I mean, the study hall- darkroom thing is pretty fiendish, but that has Halliday written all over it. She's going to get sick of being stuck lording over me."

"What about the other part?"

Pauline turns her head back and forth to survey her hair. Kathy plants her hands on either side of Pauline's head again to hold her still. She is itching to go further- maybe a bob, maybe straighten it, maybe some layering around the front. Pauline will at least let her do that much, she thinks.

"Come on, now the part where she wants to meet your boyfriend. Tell me all about your new boyfriend, Paulie."

With this, Pauline's face clouds over. She shrugs and makes a little face.

"There ain't any boyfriend. I was just fooling around with some guy…"

"Just fooling around? I'd say you were pretty seriously fooling around. What'd you do?"

Did Pauline just blush? Kathy isn't sure. For all her bravado, Pauline is really just as inexperienced as Kathy is. Until Pauline's mystery date last night, they'd each only been with one guy, and Pauline was still pretty hung up on that situation. Kathy had been hoping to erase the memory of hers by moving on to Two-Bit.

"God, just never mind it," Pauline tells her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm layering. You'll still be able to pull it back."

"Fine, just don't give me bangs."

"I'm not giving you bangs. Tell me about the guy. First of all, tell me- please to Christ- that it wasn't Tim."

Pauline grins. "It wasn't Tim."

Kathy claps the scissors between praying hands and whispers, "thank you" up at the ceiling. She gestures for Pauline to continue.

"He was…I don't know who he is. Some guy from Tim's gang, but he's older than Tim. Don't matter. I'll probably never see him again."

"Are you kidding?" Kathy knows Pauline is fooling herself. "We can't walk across town without tripping over half the damned Shepard gang. You'll totally run into him. Why don't you want to? Was he a creep or something? He didn't make you…"

"No, nothing like that." Pauline tries to shake her head, but Kathy still has her by the hair. "I just…no, he seemed nice, but he didn't ask me for a number or anything. I think it was just one of those things."

"Well, obviously, he knows where you live. I mean, he dropped you off, right?"

Pauline nods ever so slightly, as much as Kathy will allow.

Kathy takes a step back to observe her handiwork. Pleased, she tosses the scissors on the dressing table. "So what are you going to do about your mom, then?"

Pauline gives her a sly smile as she stands up. "Curly."

"What about him?"

"I called him. He's going to come by the bar on Monday and let me introduce him to my mom. He's going to pretend to be my boyfriend."

Kathy laughs. "He's a little young…"

"She don't know that."

"Okay, ingenious plan, I guess. Any idea how much pretending Curly is expecting to get out of this?"

"Shit, it's nothing like that. He knows that."

"Does he?" Kathy picks Pauline's severed ponytail off the floor and wiggles it at her face. "Because last time I checked, Curly Shepard was really desperate and not real intuitive."

"A winning combination in any guy."

"Yeah, and tell us what he has won, Pauline."

Pauline snatches her ponytail from Kathy and tosses it in a small paper bag, one Two-bit had brought home a bottle in.

"Nothing, dude. He thinks it's funny. He's just helping me out."

Kathy nods. "Ah, 'helpful'- another word I totally associate with Curly Shepard."

Pauline groans. She tries to think of a way to steer the conversation back to Kathy and Two-Bit, but before she can, there is a knock at her bedroom door. Without waiting for an invitation, her mother opens the door and pops her head in.

She is about to tell the girls that she is on her way to the store and she can give Kathy a ride home, but she stops when she sees Pauline's hair, narrows her eyes, and shakes her head. To the surprise of both girls, she smiles.

"I hope that wasn't what you had planned in the way of a rebellion, Pauline, because I like it." She nods approvingly to Kathy. She loves it. She has been waiting for the day that Pauline would get bored enough and give up on wearing her hair like one of those goddamned hippies on the U campus.

"Rebellion? What rebellion? Who's planning?"

Glenda rolls her eyes, unconvinced. "Car. Both of you. Five minutes. And get your books and toys or whatever together, Pauline. I'm going to straight to work after."

Pauline whispers, "Shit" as her mother closes the door. She gives this a week, two weeks tops, before Glenda gets tired being perched on her shoulder like a parrot on a goddamned pirate and flies away. Until then, though, it is going to be the longest one, maybe two weeks of her entire young life.

_Tell me a story about how you adore me_

_Live in the shadow, see through the shadow_


	12. It's All Over Now, Baby Blue

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" is a song by Bob Dylan, although the song Ingram is listening to on the radio is "It Takes A Lot to Laugh, It Takes A Train to Cry". The Gene Pitney song that follows is, of course, "Twenty-Four Hours From Tulsa".

Twelve- It's All Over Now, Baby Blue

_Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you  
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you_

Ingram is antsy. He figures it can't be the coffee because Duane made it this morning, and Duane makes a weak, crappy pot of coffee. Maybe it was last night with the girl. Just a little bit of that goes nowhere. It doesn't leave him satisfied. It always leaves him wanting more.

He follows what he guesses would have been his grandfather's instructions and attempts to throw himself into his work. Mr. Ellis has no way of reaching Ingram and Ingram doesn't know the kids at the DX well enough to be confident that they'll pass on the message that he came to apply. He can at least satisfy that itch, he figures, by stopping by the gas station and trying to connect with Ellis in person.

The late morning air is cool, but not uncomfortable. Ingram tosses his jacket into the seat beside him and gets in behind the wheel. He straightens the rear view mirror and catches him glancing into the backseat for anything she might have left behind. Nothing. He frowns.

The song on the radio is a new one. He doesn't know the words yet and can't sing along. It's a song about a train, though, and he kind of likes it. The deejay jars him by jumping in with the morning livestock report, the weather, and the top story: seventeen year old Robert Sheldon was found dead last night in a park in north central Tulsa. He was, apparently, stabbed and the police are asking for anyone with information on the whereabouts of two underage suspects to please come forward. Now for an oldie-but-a-goodie from Gene Pitney.

He is surprised to find that the DX is closed. That conundrum is solved when he reads the sign on the door that tells him it doesn't open until noon on Saturdays. What sits underneath the sign, however, puzzles him even more.

Sodapop Curtis, the other teenage boy employed at the DX with Steve, is sitting on the steps outside the locked shop door. He is poking at the chipping concrete with a stick. He looks up when Ingram gets out of his car and manages a weak smile.

"I guess I'm early."

"Really early," Sodapop says. "I thought you didn't start till Monday."

"I didn't have nothing better to do. Hadn't met Ellis yet."

"He'll be in just before noon to let me in."

Ingram wonders what, then, Soda plans to do for the next hour and half, but etiquette prevents him from meddling. Soda goes back to poking that the steps with his twig. Ingram plucks his pack of Camels out of his t-shirt sleeve and lights up. He shakes the pack at Soda, who declines.

Lacking anything else to do, he says to Soda, "I'm going to get some breakfast down yonder. Y'all want anything?"

Soda shakes his head. "I ate. Thanks."

Ingram pauses. Something is wrong, and he does know how to permeate it. He isn't sure he wants to, being that he barely knows the kid. He decides that a kid is a kid, though, and this one looks too pitiful to be left all alone.

"You want to ride along?"

Soda looks up. Sodapop Curtis is sort of famous among the high school set for his James Dean-level good looks. At the moment, the kid looks like he just came out the front door of the planetarium to find that someone has shot his Plato down. When he stands up, it seems more out of beaten-down obedience than from an actual desire to go for a ride.

"Yeah, I'll come along."

The news is on the car radio again when Ingram turns the ignition. The deejay repeats the story of Robert Sheldon's stabbing and the request for information about the two suspects.

Sodapop says softly, "that's my little brother."

"That Sheldon guy?"

"No, one of the suspects. My little brother Ponyboy and our buddy Johnny. It was them. They took off last night." He says, but then adds quickly, "we don't know where they are."

Ingram nods.

"My big brother's a mess," Soda continues. "Him and Pony got into it last night and Pony ran off. Darry was so afraid something bad would happen to him, but we never thought it would be like this."

"Do you know it for sure, that it was them?" Ingram passes up two or three diners and heads towards the ribbon to let Soda talk.

"Yeah, another friend of ours says he helped 'em out. I don't know how much help he was. Sounds like it just made it worse. They ought to just come home."

"That's a lot. They's just kids, ain't they?" Ingram guesses they must be, if the one is even younger than Soda. "They'll be scared not knowing what's to become of them."

Soda nods. He drops his head and Ingram is sure he's crying. Then he looks up again and inhales deeply. If he had started to cry, he's swallowed it all back down. He rolls his neck until something cracks,and then opens his mouth and closes it again, not sure he wants to say what's in his head.

Ingram points to an upcoming burger joint. "Here good?"

Soda begins to babble, "it's just that…damn, I wish he was here. He's the only one I can talk to. I know it ain't right. It's selfish of me, but I wish he was here so I could tell him."

"Tell him what?"

Ingram's question clams Soda up for a moment. He shakes off his emotion and then says blankly to the window, "my girl took off. I was just telling Pony how I was going to marry her, too, and then she's gone. Says she's knocked up and her parents are shipping her off to Florida. Tells me not to worry about it because it ain't mine anyway."

"That's rough," Ingram says. He figures he knows at least a little bit how Soda feels, but doesn't yet feel the comfort level to tell him. It strikes him that he told pretty much all he had to tell to Pauline the last night and he didn't really know her either. He'd been stoned, though, he reminds himself.

Ingram pulls into the parking lot. Soda seems to recoil at the idea of going inside where there might be other kids he knows. Ingram offers to go in and bring him something. He has decided that Soda is going to eat whether or not he already ate at home. He contemplates the details of Soda's tale while he's waiting for their food, and is ready with a few questions when he gets back to the car.

"So, your girl," Ingram says, sliding back in behind the wheel. "She says it ain't yours. You know that for sure?"

Soda nods, maybe looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, I know it ain't mine. She's way ahead of me there, I guess."

Ingram nods and digs into his fries as he drives. He is famished.

"What's her name?" He asks.

Soda looks confused for a second. Then he replies, "Sandy".

Ingram pops the lighter in. The deejay announces it is the top of the hour and almost time for news update. Ingram turns the radio off.

"Girl named Mary Beth left me once. They seem to come and go. Your brother will be back."

"I sure hope so," Soda says. He unwraps the burger Ingram brought him. They eat in silence all the way back to the DX.

* * *

Curly Shepard kicks at the leg of the bar stool he is sitting on in the pool room of Buck's Roadhouse.

"Quit it," Tim mumbles. He rolls his eyes and bends down again to line up his shot. The thump-thump-thump doesn't quit.

Tim stands up straight again and pokes Curly hard in the ribs with the queue.

"I said knock it off."

Curly coughs and glares at Tim. He climbs down from the stool and stalks out of the room. Tim doesn't seem to care that he no longer has an opponent. He goes back to sizing up his shot.

In the front of the bar, three guys are playing poker and drinking coffee at one of the tables along the wall. One of them is Duane Mitchell. He seems to have made himself right at home. Ingram Walker has yet to show himself.

Curly frowns. When last he saw Ingram, he was putting the moves on Pauline Mathews and she was taking the bait. She must've took it hook, line, and sinker because she called Curly at dawn's early light asking him to play her boyfriend for her mom's benefit on Monday after school. She must've gotten into it pretty deep with Ingram to make her mom sit up and take notice.

"I could use a beer," one of the guys playing poker with Duane says. "Eleven o'clock too early for a beer? My old man used to say I'd end up a drunk if I started drinking before noon."

"Your old man would know," one of the others replies.

Duane says, "It must be noon somewhere."

The first poker player, a long-time Shepard gang member named Arlen, folds, stands up and stretches. He kicks a can across the floor as he moves towards the bar. Buck's looks like a tornado hit it. If one had, in the wee hours of the morning, everyone would have been too drunk to notice. Buck himself has yet to appear from his room upstairs. The remaining Shepard gang members in the bar now have been there all night.

Arlen pulls himself up on his stomach to look behind the bar. He gives the tap a tentative pull. It hisses and sprays foam. Arlen mutters a curse. He looks around the room for other options.

"Curly, you should go get us some beer."

Curly glares at Arlen. He wouldn't mind a beer himself, but Curly knows how these situations usually pan out: Curly does the leg work and brings the goods back, but when it's all divided up, suddenly there's nothing left for Curly.

Still, he knows better than to suggest the bigger and more hung-over Arlen go get it himself.

"Let me take your car," he tells Arlen, feeling confident that will never come to be.

To his surprise and disappointment, Arlen slaps his keys on the bar and slides them down to Curly.

"Don't fuck with the radio."

Curly eyes Arlen's keys with distaste. He's a little green around the gills himself. He hasn't been outside yet to know for certain that the sun is shining, but he's confident it's going to be painfully bright.

"Where am I supposed to go?"

Arlen throws up his hands in disgust. He takes a step towards Curly. His advance makes the remaining poker players stop their game and take notice.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Shepard? I didn't think it was possible, but you are actually dumber than you look. You don't know where to go to buy beer now?"

"It's eleven o'clock in the morning, man. Everything's closed."

Arlen picks up his keys and chucks them at Curly's chest.

"You'll think of something," he says. He waves his arm towards the other occupants of the bar and says in a more quiet and menacing voice, "we're all counting on you."

Curly picks up the keys from his lap and jumps down from the bar stool. He looks behind him once hoping that Tim will appear and ask what in the name God they're up to. No sign of Tim.

"Fine," Curly says.

He kicks the same stray can towards the door as he goes. He can see the morning sun seeping in from the crack beneath the door. He feels sick before the light even hits him full in the face. Once outside, he pauses to vomit off of the side of the cement steps that lead up to the roadhouse. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and looks out across the gravel parking lot and finds Arlen's car.

He feels better with his stomach empty. The steps are a little difficult to navigate, but he helps himself to one of Arlen's cigarettes once inside the car, and that settles his stomach. The first thing Curly does after turning the key in the ignition is fuck with the radio. Arlen has left Curly with a plan to formulate, and he won't be able to formulate shit listening to that twangy redneck crap that Arlen's got on.

_Strike another match, go start anew  
And it's all over now, Baby Blue_


	13. Uptown Again

SE Hinton owns it.

I love the Afghan Whigs- "Uptown Again" is theirs. Quick- play Six Degrees of Matt Dillon with me! I can do it in one step.

Thirteen- Uptown Again

_Feelin' surrounded_

_Should've never left me on my own_

His face appears beneath the surface as if she is looking down at him in a pool. Pauline strokes the surface of the developer gently with the tongs, being careful not to touch the paper. This is her favorite part- the part where the picture appears and where she stops it and saves it before too much time goes by and it dissolves into black.

Today has not been a good darkroom day so far. It is her first day of study hall darkroom, and she feels rushed. She has been interrupted twice by freshmen from the introductory journalism class who don't know that the lit red bulb above the door means the timer is running inside- do not open the door.

On a normal day, before her mother and Mr. Halliday's deal, Pauline would have used the darkroom after school, possibly several hours after school when everyone else had gone home. When she was satisfied with her work, or had at least come down from the rest of her day, she would make her way home slowly. Her mother would be at work by then. Two-Bit might or might not be lurking around the house wanting dinner. Pauline had time to wander the city, take some more pictures, smoke up, go to the library, shoot a couple of baskets with Curly or whoever was hanging out in the park. She was master of her own destiny.

Pauline scowls at the face beneath the surface of the developer. She gave it all up for a guy, just like her mom had. She assumes that once her mother had a care-free existence. No husband, no bills, no kids. Her mother is smart. She has Two-Bit's sense of zany sense of humor when she's not pissed off. She probably could have been a lot of things. Well, given the times, she probably could have been a secretary or a nurse, but she could have been something more fulfilling than a barmaid, and she could have had someone more than him.

Paul Mathew's face becomes sharper on the paper hovering at the bottom of the developing tray. It lies close to the bottom, like a catfish, Pauline thinks. She likes that analogy. Her father has some very catfish-like qualities. He has, most certainly, succumbed to the life of a bottom feeder.

She plays with the analogy in her head: he sinks more than he swims. He drinks like a fish- that makes her giggle. And, gross as his habits might be, people seem to find him irresistible. Catfish are disgusting creatures, and yet people will spend hours fighting mosquitoes on the riverbanks in hopes of yanking one to the surface.

Pauline dips the tongs into the developer and pulls her father's picture up. It is just as she dreamt it. He is backlit by the light from the restroom hall. The light glints through his bottle of Grain Belt. There is just enough detail of his face to see that he is completely detached. He is gone, separated from her by the haze of cigarette smoke that is his pool.

She eases the picture into the stop bath and counts to fifteen- Mississippi, tapping her toe. There is a knock at the door. She rolls her eyes. At least they're learning to knock.

"Hold on," she calls out, and moves the photograph into the fixer. Wipes her hands on a towel, checks to make sure her supply of paper is covered, and opens the door. It's Kathy.

"Can I come in?"

Pauline nods. Kathy slips in passed her, giving Pauline's upswept hair an approving nod. She turns and steps slowly backwards through the clothesline of pictures hanging to dry all around her.

There are fourteen pictures of Kathy, plus the two of Pauline's father. Kathy can tell before she even looks at the pictures that Pauline is not pleased with the outcome. She squints in the red light and stands on her toes to get a closer look.

"Why don't you like them?" She asks Pauline.

"How did you know?"

"Because you aren't giving me the tour. If you like something, you show me where to start, which one to look at first. If you don't care, you just let me have at it. What's wrong with them?"

Pauline shrugs. "Nothing, I guess. You look good. They're nice pictures. They make good portraits."

"But?"

"They're just portraits. They don't say anything. No one's going to look at them and get what I wanted them to get. They're just going to think 'Kathy looks nice'."

Kathy grins. "I'm okay with 'Kathy looks nice'."

"Look at this one, then," Pauline tugs at one of the pictures- one where Kathy is stretched like a mermaid on a work table in the woodshop. There had been a class going on at the time, and several of the boys in the shop are sneaking glances at her. "Kathy looks hot."

"What can I say?" Kathy bats her eyelashes. She stops in front of another picture, one where she is hanging out the door of the school bus. She is smiling, laughing actually, because Pauline had just made some off-color comment about Kathy trolling the bus for younger men.

"My dad would like that one."

"Take it. Well, wait for it to dry, but take it if you want." Pauline sighs heavily. She removes the final photograph of her father from the wash and hangs it up. Then she stands and stares at it. Kathy moves next to her to see.

"That's him?"

"In all his glory."

"I like it. I don't know why, but it's harder, I guess. I mean, I don't know the guy, but I get what it's trying to say."

Pauline raises an eyebrow. "Really? Because I don't."

"It's like he's going to be consumed, you know, like Raptured."

Pauline laughs a little.

"No, really. It's like he's going to be swallowed up into that light."

"The way I always see it," Pauline refers to her dream, "the light is getting smaller. Eventually, he just falls off into the dark and disappears. Sort of his M.O. He's the master of disappearance. Someday, he's just going to disappear altogether."

"Which is why you can't stop yourself from going to check on him- you're afraid someday you'll go there, and he'll be gone?"

"Maybe, Dr. Freud."

Kathy scowls and then cocks her head to look at the picture again. "Maybe the point is we can't tell from the picture whether the light is getting bigger or smaller. It could be going either way."

"Most likely, I'm going to bet against the Rapture."

"If you don't know him, though, and don't have a reason to be mad at him- it's a cool idea. He's just a regular guy waiting to be Raptured. I wish I had a picture of my dad looking that cool."

The bell rings, and Kathy looks at Pauline trying to gauge her next move. Pauline isn't moving at all.

"We got to go, Paulie. We got Geography."

"Take your picture for your dad," Pauline tells her.

"Paulie…Halliday is going to be checking. You have to go to class."

"Yeah, I'm going," Pauline says. She unclips the picture of Kathy on the school bus and hands it to her. Kathy takes it and stands for a second waiting for Pauline to get into gear. As if in hopes that it will overload Kathy and send her on her way all the more quickly, Pauline takes the rest of her pin-up series down from the clothes pins and shoves them at Kathy.

"Take these, too."

"Thanks. My old man thanks you. Come on, now, Paulie. Let's move."

"I got a pass," Pauline tells her.

"A pass to get here last period."

"I'll tell them I had to clean up. I'm coming. Just go. I'm coming."

Kathy exits the darkroom, not believing Pauline for a second. The wheels in her head are turning. Kathy can almost see them in motion behind Pauline's gray eyes. Whatever Pauline is thinking about, Kathy is confident is it not Geography.

* * *

Pauline brushes against the tide of students all going to their regularly scheduled classes. At the halls begin to thin out, she takes refuge in the second floor girl's restroom. The bell rings. She sits on the window sill and waits.

To her disappointment, the door opens and in comes the redheaded cheerleader. She is alone this time, and she has been crying. She is crying still, but when she sees Pauline, she brushes quickly around her eyes with her fingers trying to catch any stray tears. She bellies up to the mirror to fix her face.

"You all right?" Pauline asks her.

The redhead shakes her head, but doesn't say anything. She ducks into a stall and blows her nose on some toilet paper, then returns to the mirror. She looks at herself, hoping to see something different, but breaks down again. Her head drops.

"You don't look all right," Pauline tells her, maintaining her seat on the window sill. She doesn't want to see this girl cry anymore than she wants to see anyone else cry, but she'd also really like for her to leave.

The redhead shakes her head and disappears into the stall to blow her nose again. She emerges again, twisting her hair back over her shoulders.

"Are you Two-Bit's sister?" She asks Pauline.

Pauline cocks her eyebrow at the girl, which she is figures is probably a dead giveaway. She nods as well, unable to hazard a guess as to how this chick could possibly know Two-Bit.

"Yeah."

"Do you know those two boys, the ones who killed Bob?"

Pauline nods and wonders where this was going. She begins to put the relationship together in her head- she's certainly seen the redhead hanging on Bob Sheldon's shoulder before- and wonders if her own association to Two-Bit, Ponyboy, and Johnny is about to get her eyes clawed out. Bob's death and Ponyboy's disappearance have been sparking fights and outbursts between the greaser and Soc factions all day long.

"Yeah, I know them."

"I need to talk to Two-Bit and Dallas Winston. There's something I need to tell them. Do you know how to find Dallas?"

Now Pauline smirks. The way the girl says Dally's name, so meek and hopeful- Pauline could almost vomit.

"What do you need to tell them?"

"Just…you weren't there. You wouldn't understand. I know what happened. I think I can help them if I can tell them what happened."

"So what happened?"

"You wouldn't understand. You didn't know Bob."

"Try me." Pauline crosses her legs in defiance. She isn't coming down from her window seat now for anything. "Tell me all about Bob."

"Why are you being mean?" The redhead whines.

"I'm not being mean. You're being irritating," Pauline replies, then backs off a little. "You shouldn't even be here."

"I have a pass."

"Not _here_. I mean, you shouldn't be in school. I'd have stayed home if I was you."

"I didn't want to stay home. There wouldn't be anything to do but think about it."

"But you know that your being here is just stirring up shit, right?"

The redhead frowns at Pauline. She bites at her quivering bottom lip. In a final act of desperation, she opens her book bag, takes out a piece of paper and a pen, and scribbles something down. She hands the paper to Pauline.

"Will you just tell Two-Bit or Dally to call Cherry?"

"Cherry? Like the pie?"

"Like my hair," Cherry says with annoyance. "Please."

"It will be my pleasure," Pauline mutters. She looks out the window behind her. A city bus is creeping up the block towards the school. She hops down from the sill and pushes past Cherry.

"You should go home," she says again.

Pauline barely makes the bus. She is sure that Halliday or someone has to have spotted her running across the Will Rodgers parking lot, but she doesn't care. That school is like its own self-contained Universe always teetering on the edge of implosion, and she wants out of it. She doesn't want any part of it.

She feels sorry for Cherry, yeah, but she tends not to like people she feels sorry for. This is probably the first time Cherry has ever lost anything in her life. It's too bad it had to be such a big thing- like a boyfriend- but Pauline's sympathy ends at the idea of being made Cherry's messenger girl. If Cherry feels that bad and that much for Pony and Johnny and- God forbid- Dally, let her go looking for them herself.

Pauline opens her hand and looks at the piece of paper from Cherry's notebook. She has written "Please- call!" above the number in her bubbly handwriting. Pauline wonders if it was difficult for Cherry to keep from drawing hearts instead of dots under all those exclamation points. She pokes her hand through the open window of the bus and lets the paper fly.

_Baby, you cry too much_

_I'm tired of the sound_

_You're such a baby_

_Baby, baby, baby_


	14. Blood Sings

SE Hinton owns it, and what I ride I'm getting out of just her brief mention of Two-Bit's sister. "Blood Sings" is not my favorite song by Suzanne Vega, but it seems to fit.

Fourteen- "Blood Sings"

_And my question to you is_

_How did this come to pass?_

_How did this one life_

_Fall so far and fast?_

These days it seems she gets a little older each time he sees her. This time her hair is shorter, he thinks. He could be wrong. He tries not to pay attention to things like her hair or what she's wearing. If he gave a damn at all he'd read her the riot act about that hickey she's got. She could at least button up that blouse all the way.

"Do you want to see it?" She asks him.

He replies, "I can see plenty."

Pauline smiles at her father. She knows what he is referring to, and it makes her kind of happy that he's saying something disapproving and fatherly even if it wasn't what she was asking him about. She tweaks her shirt collar.

"Your picture. I brought your picture that I took."

He raises a hand in defeat and beckons her closer. What the hell, he doesn't have anything better to do.

She pulls herself up onto the bar stool next to him and lays her book bag on the bar. As she rifles through the notebooks and past the biology text, it dawns on Paul what time it is.

"Ain't you supposed to be in school?"

She shrugs. "There's nothing going on there."

"There ain't a whole lot going on here, either. You ought to be in school, Pop Tart."

"Nothing's getting done there today. Some friends of Two-Bit's, they killed a guy over the weekend- a rich guy from the south side, and they took off. Everyone who came to school today came to fight over that. It ain't much of a serene learning environment."

Paul can't help but smile. He graduated from Will Rogers himself twenty years ago. Back then, he had helped contribute to plenty of instability in the learning environment. He doesn't know whether to be saddened or amused that things don't seem to have changed much.

"Still, kid, you ought to be there. Your ma'll have cats if she finds out you're down here with me."

"She won't find out. I have time," Pauline says, and Paul realizes that she has a plan to foil her mother in play already. "Here."

She pulls an 8 x 10 photograph out from between two sheets of notebook paper and slides it across the bar to him.

Paul cranes his head back slightly to look. He is reminded that he needs to see an eye doctor. The last time he was in the hospital they recommended that, among the many other suggestions they had for him.

What surprises him most is that it's a good photograph. He doesn't consider himself to be any kind of connoisseur of art, but he's leafed through his share of _Life Magazines_. Paul likes photography better than he likes paintings. He knows that, and he'd rather look at photojournalism- _National Geographic_ kind of stuff- than what he'd guess is called "high art". Pauline's photograph is right up his alley. It's grainy and rough. It's a picture of him, all right.

"So this is what happens right before I die?" He asks her.

She nods. Her face darkens and Paul avoids looking at her. She gets that look like a little kid- with the furrowed brow and the big eyes- and he remembers what she was like when she was a little kid. Never like the boy. That little son of a bitch could always roll with the punches. Pauline was never satisfied. She'd ask him questions forever and a day, with that same look on her face, and just when he'd think she was going to shut up, she'd go and think up another one.

"And then what happens?" He asks, and turns his head to cough against his shirt sleeve.

"You're dead. Nothing happens after that."

"Damn, kid, didn't your mother ever take you to church? Something has to happen."

Pauline is still frowning at him. "She went to church, but I used to stay home with you, remember? We used to watch _Rocky and Bullwinkle_. What's that?"

"Great," Paul grumbles. "And what does the First Church of Frostbite Falls teach us about the afterlife? What's what?"

She points to his sleeve, which is splattered with dark spots. In the half-light of the bar, they look black. Paul knows they're bright red. He's been coughing up blood since early this morning when his stomach emptied out and he quit throwing it up. It comes out in his piss, too. They told him this would happen, the doctors. It means something, but he can't quite remember what. It ain't good, that much he knows.

"It's nothing, kid. I just got something on my shirt."

"Is that blood, Daddy?"

That ain't good either- her calling him "Daddy". She doesn't believe him and she's scared, and Paul was never any good with her when she got scared.

"I don't know, Pop Tart. Here, it's a good picture. You got any more? Let me see 'em."

Yeah, he's screwed it up now. Gone and tipped her off that something really is wrong. He hasn't shown any interest in anything she's done in sixteen, seventeen- or however the hell old she is- years. His doing it now makes her suspicious.

"Do you want me to call Mom?"

Paul tries to laugh, but it comes out as a hack. "Christ, no. No, don't call your mother. We'll both get strung up. What time to do you have be back? Shouldn't you get going pretty quick here?"

Something is stabbing him in the gut, but from the inside. Maybe his liver has finally turned to stone. Fluids are backing up inside his body. His blood is dirty and acidic. It's trying to eat its way out. Maybe that's what's been happening- with the coughing, and the vomit, and the piss. His blood is filthy and his body is trying to get rid of it. That's Paul's best guess, but it's not the answer he wants to give the girl.

"What did I tell you?" He says to her. "Here, take your picture and get going or your ma will eat us both alive. It's a good picture, kid. I like it. Bring me some more next time."

He slides the picture back to her and even goes so far as to pat her hand. His efforts to be rid of her are in vain. She stands up on the frame of her bar stool and calls to the bartender.

"Hey, can you help him? I think he needs help. Can you call somebody?"

"Pauline," Paul snaps at her, but that's all he's got. Not even enough air left in him to tell that girl to "shut up". The last thing he sees is the bartender picking up the phone. Definately a bad sign- when the bartender starts acting on the advice of a sixteen or seventeen year old girl. How the hell old is she now, anyway?

She must be seventeen. She was born in 1948. The war was over. Paul and Glenda had a house and a car and a ten-month old son, and everybody was happy. Well, everybody except that Gandhi, he remembers, and the Palestinians, but when are they ever happy?

…She was born in April and it was snowing. It was a weird April. He'd never imagined himself with a daughter, and now he had one. He had to drive her home from the hospital in the snow and the ice, and every time the wheels lost traction on the street, Paul sucked in his breath. When they finally got to the house, and he could breathe again, Paul's whole body ached. He slumped down in his chair in the living room and felt like a god because his daughter was still asleep and didn't know any different. It was as though he had absorbed all the pain and terror in the outside world and kept it all within himself.

_One body split and passed along the line_

_From the shoulder to the hip_

_I know these bones as being mine_


	15. You're Gonna Need Someone On Your Side

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and the Shepard boys. "You're Gonna Need Someone On Your Side" is a song by Morrissey. Nothing like a good, old-fashioned Morrissey song to set the tone.

Fifteen- You're Gonna Need Someone On Your Side

_And here I am, here I am_

_Well, you don't need to look so pleased_

Pauline bursts through the door of Elaine's Bar and Grill, startling the few patrons who are there hiding out from life at four-thirty in the afternoon. The only occupant who doesn't seem unnerved is Glenda. She lays her tray down on the bar- possibly to keep herself from throwing it at her daughter- and rests her hand on her hip.

"The first day of our agreement and you're late. You're not even going to pretend to take me seriously, are you, Pauline?"

"Mom…" Pauline is heaving, still trying to catch her breath.

"You missed your little boyfriend, too. I'm sure he's feeling real special right now. Why didn't you just say you were going out with _him_ again? I could've locked you in the basement on Saturday and been done with it."

Pauline takes a deep breath. She starts to say, "Mama," again, but then stops. She furrows her brow at Glenda.

"Again? No, Mom, it's a different guy. It's Tim's brother, Curly."

Glenda shakes her head. "I'm pretty sure it was Tim. He said his name was Tim."

Pauline looks confused. Sure, there's a family resemblance, but she never thought Tim and Curly looked _that_ much alike. Her mother looks suspicious now.

"Do you know which one you're going out with?"

Pauline nods. "Curly Shepard."

"Fascinating. Because Tim Shepard was here, and he said you and him were back together. Shook my hand, apologized for having you out so late, gave me some b.s. story about car trouble, and promised it would never happen again. If I didn't remember him from a couple of years ago, I might have actually liked the boy."

This is too much for Pauline to digest. She tries again to tell her mother where she's been.

"Mama, I just saw Dad."

"Just saw him where? Did you go to that bar or to his apartment? Because I don't want you at that apartment. I don't want you at either place…"

Again, Pauline is struck unaware. She didn't know there was an apartment. It had never occurred to her that he could live somewhere other than at their house. She suspects Two-Bit has all known all along but has chosen not to share the information. She forces the idea of an apartment to the back of her head.

"The bar, Mom, I went to the bar, and he's sick. He fell down on the floor right in front of me. They called an ambulance, and there was a cop, and he chased me away. Told me to get you. You're supposed to go to the hospital."

Glenda's shoulders sag. "I'm working, Pauline. I can't go anywhere. If he's at the hospital, then he's safe. Let it be."

"But, Mama, they said…you said he's going to die."

Her mother reaches out to brush Pauline's hair back, but Pauline ducks away.

"Pauline, there's nothing either of us can do. He made his choice. Just let him be."

Pauline shakes her head. Tears well up in her eyes. Her bottom lip begins to quiver and she has to take a moment to stuff it all back down again before she can speak.

"Don't you even want to go?" She asks. The tears spill over and run down her cheeks.

Glenda exhales heavily. "No, and I don't want you there either. Pauline, I know it must have been scary to see that, but he's in a safe place. They're good doctors…"

"He said they're quacks."

"He would say that. He says that because they tell him to quit drinking."

Before Pauline can come up with a response the door opens behind her. Her mother looks passed her, and says, "Look. Your boyfriend's back."

Pauline turns around, and it is indeed Tim and not Curly who has come in to the bar. She's too upset to even attempt a guess at what the Shepard boys are up to. She runs to Tim, who takes a nervous step back when he sees she's been crying.

"Did I do this?" He asks, sounding a little annoyed.

"Tim, can you take me to the hospital? Please, my dad's sick. I want to go see him."

"Pauline," Glenda breaks in. "Don't you dare…and don't you dare, Tim or Curly or whoever the hell you are. You're supposedly her boyfriend, so have a little respect for her mother, and help me talk some sense into this girl. She's not going anywhere."

Tim looks at Glenda and smirks just a little.

"I ain't her boyfriend," he says. He takes Pauline by the hand and jerks her towards the door.

* * *

"Where's Curly?" Pauline asks him once they're in the car and moving on the street.

"Dear Little Curly went and got himself picked up for b&e Saturday morning. Christ, what got in the water this weekend? Yeah, the boy tried and failed miserably to break in to a liquor store in broad daylight. Like he didn't have the whole night before to do that."

Tim shakes his head in disgust.

Pauline asks, "So he sent you to fill in, or what? That was nice of him. I guess."

"Yeah, keep guessing. If I didn't know better, I'd say he has it in for you and me both. I know he has it in for me. I always thought he was kind of sweet on you though. Yeah, he told me to come down here and meet you, but he failed to mention the part where I was supposed play-acting I was your boyfriend."

"Maybe he forgot."

"He didn't forget. He had some fantastic yarn dreamed up about how you needed to pass a message to me from Dally about the Socs. He's pissed about something, and he knows I can't get to him and beat the holy crap out of him while he's locked up. Whatever. I got a long memory. I can wait six months."

"Six months? Jesus. Where's he going?"

"Reformatory- his second residence."

The mention of a second residence reminds Pauline of her father's apartment. She frowns and kicks at the floor of the car.

"So what the hell are we doing now?" Tim asks. "I was happy to go pissing off your mom after that little game of twenty million questions she treated me to earlier. I got a couple of questions of my own for you, Paulie."

Pauline pulls her hair back and then lets it fall again. She looks out the window. The evening traffic is beginning to drag them down. They're going to get stuck. Tim is going to have time to ask her all the questions he wants.

"Shoot," she says, still looking out the window.

"Who's the guy?"

"What guy?"

"The one that I was pretending to be Curly pretending to be."

Pauline can't help but smile a little at that.

"None of your business," she tells him anyway.

"The hell it ain't. You should've heard your Ma. She said awful things to me, Pauline, just awful. Put a chill in my heart."

Pauline grins now. "Shut the hell up, Tim. It don't matter. The guy's long gone. Next question."

"We'll come back to that one. Why Curly?"

"Why Curly what? Because Curly and I get along; we're friends. Well, he'd do it if he wasn't locked up and on his way to the reformatory."

"I'd have done it. I thought we was friends. Truth be told, this is all pretty fucking amusing, the thing with your dad aside. It's so rare I get to see you with your feathers ruffled."

"And it's making your day to get to jump in and set everything right."

"Yeah, kind of. That whole white knight- damsel in distress thing. You know I live for that shit."

Pauline rolls her eyes at Tim. Two years ago, she would have wanted nothing more than to hear him say that he considered her a friend. Hearing him say it now is just confusing; she doesn't know what to make of it. She is confident that he will be able to turn off any semblance of affection should any member of his gang suddenly appear. One-on-one, Tim is a dizzying blend of well-read sarcasm and "Let me sheild you from the Big Bad World, Baby". Around the guys, however, he is just an ass. Pauline has spent hours pondering which version is more of an act.

She is surprised when he brakes and stops for a yellow light. She would have expected him to put the throttle down and peel right on through. He waits for the light to turn red and then raises an eyebrow at her.

"It seems that we're at both a literal and figurative crossroads here, kid."

"Meaning what, Shakespeare?"

"Meaning we can go left and go to the hospital or go right and take you on home. As much as I'm enjoying being a burr under your Ma's blanket, I'm leaning towards home."

Pauline scowls at him and shakes her head. She isn't in the mood for his Big Brother act.

Before she can argue, he continues, "You don't want to see that shit, girl. You think your old man's going to be happy to see you? He ain't. You got to just walk away from it, Pauline."

"Coming from the guy who can walk away from anything."

"That hurts, really is does, Paulie," he says. His nose twitches a little when he says it, and Pauline wonders if maybe it did hurt, just a little. "Seriously, girl, just let me take you home…I mean, home to your house. They ain't going to let you see him anyway. You're not eighteen. Let me take you home and maybe Two-Bit will be around."

"Two-Bit won't go see him."

"Then maybe you should take a lesson from Two-Bit."

"Wow, you're probably the first person to ever say that."

Tim shrugs. The light turns green. He looks over at her out of the corner of his eye. She waves to the right without looking back at him.

Once they are on a safe course towards Pauline's house, she curls her feet up under her and turns sideways on the seat to watch him while he drives. After a while, the scrutiny starts to bother him and he reaches over and pokes at her thigh with his finger. She pokes his shoulder back.

"Can I make a request?" She asks.

"I don't do requests." Tim shakes his head. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Will you take me to Kathy's house? There ain't anything to eat at our place. Two-Bit's supposed to be picking Kathy up. I'll tell him about my Dad and catch a ride home."

"I'd rather just take you out to eat. I'm not entirely welcome on Tiber Street," Tim says. He sighs when she doesn't answer. "I suppose, though. You can keep Kathy company when Two-Bit stands her up."

Pauline scowls. "He ain't going to stand her up. He asked her out."

"Want to bet?" Tim holds out his hand. When she pauses, he wiggles his fingers. Pauline slaps her hand down on his and they shake.

Tim checks in his rearview mirror and then yanks the steering wheel hard to the left. His unexpected U-turn sends Pauline careening into his lap.

"Sorry," he says, winking at her.

Pauline sits up again. "You are not."

"No, not really."

As they turn on to Kathy's street, Tim tries one more time. "So, who is this guy again?"

"It's none of your business, Tim. God, you're just nosy."

"It is so my business. It's my business to know what's going down on my turf."

"We weren't on your turf. We went to Catoosa."

"Wow, some romantic. Took you all the way to Catoosa? You sure know how to pick 'em, Mathews."

"Tell me about it," she snaps and Tim cackles.

The car pulls up across the street from the Rose house. Kathy's brother, Marty, is standing on the porch in his jeans and tenement t-shirt holding Kathy's orange cat, Poe. He flips Tim off and Tim responds in kind. Pauline opens her door.

"Thanks, Shepard," she says.

"You're very welcome. Hey, Paulie, next time don't go wasting your time with Curly, okay? You need something done, you let me handle it."

Pauline makes a face at him and says, "I think I've been handled by you plenty, Tim."

He grins at her and drives away, shaking his head.

_And here I am, here I am_

_Well, you don't need to look so pleased_


	16. All This Useless Beauty

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "All This Useless Beauty" is a song by Elvis Costello.

Sixteen- All This Useless Beauty

_It's at times such as this she'd be tempted to spit_

_If she wasn't so ladylike_

The image of Marty on the porch makes Pauline wish she hadn't left the camera at school. Marty Rose is the kind of hood who makes Pauline glad Two-Bit is her brother. He's an attractive enough guy, and she finds herself attracted to him on and off, but he and the other members of the Tiber Street Tigers gang have crossed a line in behavior that the Two-Bit and the Curtis'- even Dally- don't even flirt with.

For guys like Two-Bit and the Curtis boys, the gang offers some kind of protective factor. The Shepard Gang is sort of the next level- the kind that enjoys breaking the law and will go out of its way to do it. Guys like Kathy's brother are no longer in it for the enjoyment. They're straight up criminals now, motivated by hatred. Rumor has it that the Tiger's involvement with speed-dealing biker gangs has added a white power focus to their hatred. Pauline heard Kathy and Marty argue about it earlier this year when Marty had grumbled that the Bloody Sunday march wouldn't have needed to get bloody if "they" knew their place. Kathy had about hit the ceiling.

And so the sight of Marty, in his undershirt and jeans and jailhouse tattoos, holding the cat captures Pauline's imagination and holds it. She half-expects that Marty will snap Poe's neck, but he stands there stroking the cat's back and watching Tim's car drive away down the street. He doesn't even look at Pauline when she steps up on to the porch.

"You back with him again?"

"Nope," she replies. "Just bumming a ride."

"You know he ain't welcome around here."

Pauline rolls her eyes. It seems that fewer and fewer people are welcome on Tiber Street territory these days. She doesn't answer Marty.

He sets Poe down on the porch railing and turns to open the screen door for Pauline, which she finds to be yet another odd gesture coming from him.

"I thought your brother was picking her up."

"He is. I'm just stopping by."

"Yeah, well, he'd better. If he shines her on, I'm going to kill him."

"Take a number," Pauline says, stepping inside the house. "He ain't going to stand her up, though."

Marty steps passed her and goes to the back of the house without another word. Pauline shrugs. Apparently that conversation is over.

Before running up the stairs with Poe to Kathy's room, Pauline pops her head into the living room to say hello to Kathy's father. Jimmy Rose is sitting in his chair reading the paper with the television on. His parenting style reminds Pauline a lot of her mother's: his boys run the show, but he has strict behavioral expectations when it comes to his daughter. In Jimmy's case, he expects that his boys will enforce these expectations, which Kathy's brothers do with varying levels of success. Marty is the only one left at home. The older two have families of their own and little time now for babysitting Kathy.

"Hi, Mr. Rose," Pauline says.

He brings the paper down. "Hey, Miss Mathews. I thought it was your brother who was coming over."

"He is. I'm going to chaperone." She winks at him. "Actually, I need him to give me a ride home."

"Marty can give you a ride," Jimmy offers.

Pauline smiles. She has her limits, and one of them is getting into a car alone with Marty Rose.

"That's alright, sir. I can wait. I kind of need to run into my brother anyway."

Mr. Rose says, "hmm," and goes back to his papers. Pauline heads up the stairs to the second floor of the house. Kathy meets her at the top.

"Hey, darlin'," Pauline says and then coughs when she realizes she's imitating Ingram Walker.

"What are you doing here? Not the bearer of bad news, are you?"

Pauline frowns. "People keep asking me that. His reputation precedes him. No, he's coming. I just wanted to stop off for a while before I went home."

"Wait a minute. You're not even supposed to be here. Aren't you supposed to be glued to your mom's hip?"

Kathy sighs. Pauline is already in trouble. Oh well, she can at least help Kathy pick out something to wear while she's spinning her tale. Kathy gives Pauline a shove towards her bedroom.

"So did Curly screw it up, or what?" Kathy asks, returning to her dresser. She stands on her toes to get closer to the mirror and begins applying her eyeliner.

Pauline sits down on Kathy's bed and tries to put everything in order in her head.

"Yeah, Curly screwed up, but in an entirely different way than I would have imagined," she says, and begins to tell Kathy about going to see her dad, and Tim coming to Elaine's instead of Curly, and the ride across town with Tim.

"So you don't know what happened to your dad after they took him?" Kathy asks.

Pauline shakes her head.

"Jesus, that would've scared the hell out of me. Have you tried to call the hospital?"

"No. Tim says they won't tell me anything because I'm not eighteen. He told me to get Two-Bit to do it."

"I'm so glad that Tim was there for you to lean on," Kathy groans. "God, why can you and him just not stay out of each other's way? I'm sure it was killing him that you asked Curly to play your boyfriend instead of him, and I'm not entirely sure you didn't already think of that."

Kathy turns to Pauline and gives her an accusing smirk. Pauline cocks her eyebrow and they hold each other's gaze for a beat, seeing which one will break first. Kathy does. She shakes her head and goes to her closet.

"What?" Pauline says.

"You're kidding me, right? Tell me that Tim never crossed your mind when you called Curly to bring him in on your little plan. And tell me that it never occurred to you that- of course- Tim was going to find out that there was another guy."

"It honestly never occurred to me," Pauline tells her. Honestly, she had been too tired to care when she had called Curly. "Not that it matters. It's all gone straight to hell now. My mom knows it isn't Tim or Curly, and I've now taken off on her twice since school let out this afternoon, and I still don't know what's going on with my dad. Hey, what time is it anyway?"

Kathy squints to see her alarm clock. She locks her jaw in annoyance. She doesn't like what she's seeing.

"Christ," Pauline says. "What time is he picking you up?"

"Fifteen minutes ago."

"Christ," Pauline says again. "Fashionably late would be very much like Two-Bit. How long do you want to give him?"

"About fifteen minutes less than I already have." Kathy yanks a dress off of its hanger and pulls it over her head. It's a pretty dress. Kathy probably made it, with Evie's help, in Home Ec. It has been tailored to Kathy. Pauline knows she could never hope to borrow it. She's too tall. She color is perfect for Kathy anyway.

"How do I look?" Kathy asks, her voice now oozing sarcasm.

"Fit to be tied," Pauline says. "And quite lovely, I might add."

"Oh, fuck him, Pauline."

"I'd rather not."

Kathy ignores her. "I was looking forward to this. He was so sweet the other night. We talked and talked. He was so upset about the whole thing with Pony and Johnny, and I thought we really connected. I mean, he has to know that I care."

"I don't know," Pauline says and sits up straight on the edge of the bed. "I don't pretend to know what he's thinking. What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'm not going to tell you what you should do about him, but if you have some alternate plan for the evening, I'm down. If you're feeling like a confrontation, I'm down for that too."

"You think I should? Maybe I should just let it go."

Pauline shrugs. She sort of wishes Kathy would let Two-Bit go, but she still needs to find him herself, and so she's torn.

"Like I said, I'm down for whatever."

Kathy stews. She crosses the room and examines herself in the mirror.

"Damnit, I do look good."

"Yes, you do."

"Where do you think he is?"

"If he's drinking, he's probably at Buck's."

"If we go to Buck's, you have to get dressed up too."

Pauline scowls. Dressed up in what, she wonders. What of Kathy's is going to fit her?

"If we go to Buck's, we're going there to take his dumb car and drive me to the hospital to find my dad."

"I thought you said you were down for whatever."

"I still got my own shit to deal with."

"Fine, but if we're going to Buck's, we at least have to give the appearance that we're going to have a night on the town. Even if we're stealing your brother's car and going to the hospital. Come on, let me do your hair up. Maybe Tim will be there."

Pauline sticks her tongue out. "Are you encouraging this now?"

"No, I am not," Kathy laughs. She picks up her brush and sits down next to Pauline. She separates one curl away from the rest and lets it fall down over Pauline's ear. She pulls the rest into a twist at the back of Pauline's head. Pauline winces.

"Baby," Kathy says. "What do you want to wear?"

"This," Pauline gestures to what she's already wearing.

"Honest to Christ, Pauline. Do I have to do everything?" Kathy stands up and- satisfied with Pauline's hair- goes back to her closet and begins to dig. "The eyeliner is the thing on the dresser that looks like a pencil, Paulie. You use it to line your eyes."

Pauline grins. "I got it. Just explain to me where the lipstick goes again."

Kathy tosses a soft blue cardigan sweater at Pauline. "Just the slip under this. Take your blouse off. I'll find you a skirt."

The girls thunder downstairs. They're on a mission now. Pauline tugs at the skirt Kathy has lent her. It isn't too tight, to her relief, but it's shorter than she's accustomed to. She likes the look of the sweater over her camisole, too, but the sweater is also a little short. She pushes the sleeve up to her elbows because they don't quite reach down her wrists.

They find Marty in the kitchen. Pauline's stomach growls when she sees the sandwich he's made himself and the accompanying glass of milk. Kathy frowns at Pauline, and then snatches up half of Marty's sandwich and gives it to her.

Pauline whispers, "Thanks," to Kathy and nods to Marty, too. His attention is completely on Kathy, who is getting a glass out of the drainer now and pouring Pauline some milk.

"Where is he?" Marty asks.

"Shut up, Marty," Kathy replies.

Pauline says, "Just a little car trouble. We're supposed to meet him."

"Can you give us a ride, Marty?" Kathy asks. "Just up towards the rodeo grounds. To that diner…what's it called?"

"What's he want to meet you up there for? He'd better not be taking you to Merrill's place."

"No," Kathy is indignant. "We're meeting at that diner. The one with the chicken. You know it. What's it called, Paulie?"

Pauline can't remember. She does remember the mammoth fiberglass chicken that sits out front. She took Two-Bit's picture standing next to it once. Her mother has the picture framed. The diner is still a fair piece from Buck's, but nothing is really close to Buck's. It's as good a drop-off point as any without giving away their intentions to Marty.

Marty is still skeptical. He was really hoping for an excuse to beat the hell out of Two-Bit.

"God, Marty, just come on," Kathy whines. He is the only person she ever whines to, and it works on him every time.

"Fine. Jesus, let me get my jacket," He lurches out of his chair and stalks passed them. "Meet me in the car."

_He's part ugly beast and part Hellenic deceased_

_And she finds that mixture is hard to deny_


	17. Don't Worry Baby

SE Hinton is the proud mommy to The Outsiders and the Shepard gang. "Don't Worry Baby" is another Beach Boys song about cars. This chapter has nothing to do with cars; it's just the song I imagine playing on the jukebox in the background.

Seventeen- Don't Worry Baby

_Well, it's been building up inside me for- oh- I don't know how long now_

_I don't know why but I keep thinking something's bound to go wrong now_

The first familiar face Pauline sees when she and Kathy enter Buck's Roadhouse is Tim Shepard's. He sees Pauline and Kathy, too, and throws his hands in the air, feigning shock.

"What? No date with Two-Bit? Seems I have a bet to collect on."

Kathy ignores him. Both girls swish on by. Pauline shoves him hard in the chest- which amuses him all the more- as they head towards the tables on the other side of the bar.

"Shut the hell up, Shepard. You knew."

"Knew what, kid? Maybe I had a vision. I just went with it."

"You knew." She turns back and glares at him. "For all I know, you're the one who dragged him down here."

"You're a sore loser, Paulie. You and I ought to step upstairs for a minute. I'll get what you owe me, and I promise you'll like it, too."

"A minute's about all that would take," Pauline snaps.

One of the guys standing around with Tim laughs out loud and says, "Nice". Tim curses her under his breath. Pauline hurries to catch up to Kathy.

Kathy has found Two-Bit sitting at a corner table drinking beer with Steve Randle and Sodapop Curtis. Pauline is relieved to see that there don't seem to be any girls in their company. Only that could have possibly made this scene any uglier.

Steve doesn't seem to think this is ugly at all. He can barely contain his amusement at Kathy's arrival. Or maybe he's just drunk. Pauline can't tell. Sodapop looks worried. He isn't drinking. He has a glass of beer in front of him, but he doesn't appear to have touched it.

"Before you even start," Two-Bit says to Kathy, "there was a perfectly good reason."

Pauline chokes back a bitter laugh. Steve does laugh, and Two-Bit elbows him.

"Baby," Two-Bit begins again. "It's all this shit with Pony and Johnny. We was all at the DX, and I was getting set to come pick you up…was I not?"

He leans passed Steve, whom he has wisely deemed to be useless, to Sodapop for confirmation. Soda nods.

"He was."

"I was, but then Shepard called everyone down here to have a little powwow about the Socs."

Pauline turns around to glare at Tim. He sees her and winks.

Kathy raises a hand to silence Two-Bit. "Okay, wait now…let me get something straight. Tim called you?"

Two-Bit nods. "Yeah."

"On a telephone?"

"Yeah."

Pauline starts to grin. She sees what's coming miles ahead of her brother. Soda does, too, and he drops his head to giggle at his lap.

"So, there was a phone where you were when you decided to ditch me and come have your little boy-talk with Tim?"

"Yeah, there's a phone in the DX, babe. You know that."

Kathy picks up a basket of peanuts of the table and throws it at Two-Bit.

"Then why didn't you call me? I get that you're all worried about Pony and Johnny. We're all worried about Pony and Johnny. I get that the Socs are way out of line. Please, do something about that, if you think you can but- Jesus, Two-Bit, why couldn't you just call me?"

"Oh," Two-Bit says.

Steve stops munching on the peanuts that had landed on him. He says to Sodapop, "Did I call Evie?"

"You called Evie," Soda replies.

"Thank Christ for that," Steve says. He turns to Two-Bit. "Count yourself lucky, buddy. You ain't seen pissed until you've seen Evie pissed. If there ain't phone handy to call her up, I'd damned well better start a fire and be sending up smoke signals…"

Two-Bit cocks an eye at Steve. He then, in Pauline's opinion, makes his first intelligent move of the night. He stands up, brushes off the peanuts, and says to Kathy, "Can you and me go somewhere and talk, just the two of us?"

Kathy looks to Pauline for assurance that her brother is being sincere. Pauline nods an "okay".

"Yeah, sure," Kathy says to Two-Bit.

He leads Kathy by the arm towards the back rooms and the pool tables. Pauline follows them to the edge of the dance floor to wait. The song from the jukebox dies out and the tempo slows. The number of couples on the floor thins out and she feels more conspicuous, like the last girl left standing at an eighth grade dance.

A pair of hands grips her waist from behind and pushes her out amongst the other dancing couples. She knows it's Ingram Walker before he spins her around and pulls her in to face him because he's singing along with Elvis, "…I'll be sad and blue…cryin' over you…dear old me…Hey, darlin', ain't you a little young to be in here?"

Pauline lets him slide his right hand around her waist and interlace the fingers of his left hand with her right. He's grinning down at her, and why shouldn't he be? He's a natural dancer. She doesn't have to think; he just moves her, without force, like he's controlling her with his mind.

"Kathy wanted to come look for my brother," she tells him. "What are you doing? Bowing down to the Alter of the Almighty Tim?"

"Damn, when you put it that way," Ingram replies. He takes a step back to spin her at his arm's length, looking her up and down as she turns. Then he pulls her back to him and says, "Do you always get dolled up like that to go hunting for your brother?"

"We were just goofing around at her place. These ain't even my clothes. You know, girls playing dress up."

"You don't strike me as a dress-up kind of girl."

Pauline shrugs, thinking of her photographs. "Shows what you know."

"You cut your hair."

"Kathy cut it. I don't know if I like it yet." She stops herself before she says that she had wanted it to make her look older.

Ingram inspects her face, frowning. "It's nice pulled up. Can see more of your face."

"My ears kind of stick out."

"I know," he says and pinches her waist a little. "I've nibbled them."

Pauline feels the red rising in her cheeks, and although he probably can't see in the bar light she ducks her eyes and looks away. Ingram takes the opportunity to pull her in a little closer. The Elvis song ends, and there is a brief moment of silence before "Don't Worry Baby" kicks in. The slight lift in temp doesn't faze Ingram a bit, and he knows all the words to this song, too.

The front door to the bar opens and shuts behind them. Pauline feels a rush of night air blow over her back. She shivers a little and Ingram slides his hand up her back. It stops at her shoulder, though, and brings them to a halt. She looks up at him again.

He is looking past her and frowning.

"Ah, hell," he whispers.

Pauline looks around and sees that Tim Shepard and a couple of his underlings are heading to the door. Tim nods to Ingram and then jerks his head for Ingram to follow.

"I'll be right back, okay, baby?" Ingram tells her. Before she can answer, he turns around and calls to Duane. "Hey, Mitchell, get on out here and dance with Pauline, will you? Keep her company for me."

Duane puts his beer down and stands up. Ingram pats Pauline's cheek and follows Tim outside.

Pauline frowns up at Duane, who laughs at her obvious disappointment. He picks up her right hand, and begins by apologizing.

"I can't dance like Ingram," he tells her.

"That's all right," Pauline says. "Neither can I."

The two of them just sway. The door opens and shuts again, and Pauline can hear shouts from the parking lot. She can't tell who is shouting or what about, but she becomes aware that a large portion of the bar has emptied to get a better look.

Her body grows tense, and Duane locks on to her tighter in response. She knows that he isn't trying to keep her company. He's keeping her from following Ingram.

"This is a diversion, isn't it?" She asks him.

"Yeah, I'd guess we're both being diverted."

Pauline pulls her hand from his, but he plants his other hand against her back- a sign that she shouldn't even try backing away.

"Duane, something bad is happening out there, isn't it? Why aren't you out there backing him up?"

"Because he asked me to stay here with you," Duane says. "And because it's probably my brother who's out there raising Cain. Shepard won't make me fight Nicky."

The mention of Nicky Mitchell's name strikes fear into Pauline, and then anger, and then despair. There was a warmth and a glow building up inside of her from the moment Ingram snuck up behind her. It was the first time all day she'd felt calm, but now that is all draining out of her down into the floor. She feels empty. She turns her head towards the door.

Duane cups her chin in his hand and tips it up to face him. "Right here, honey," he tells her, looking her in the eye. "Stay with me now."

Pauline shakes her head. "Duane, I think I want to go home."

"Girl, don't do that. You trying to get his attention? Trust me, you got it."

"No, I don't want his attention. I don't want it at all. I want to go home. Duane, I'll go out the back. I won't even go near them…I won't see what's going on. Come on, Duane, I don't want to be part of this. I don't want to spend all my time pining around wondering if he's getting beat up or stabbed or shot. I don't want to be with that kind of guy."

Duane strokes her cheek with his thumb. The gesture is tender, but the look on his face is incredulous. "Pardon me, honey, but ain't we from the same side of town? Just what other kind of guy were you thinking of being with?"

Pauline gives him a hard shove and he releases her. "Go to hell. Maybe I just won't be with anyone, but I ain't going to spend the rest of my life with a pit in my stomach, waiting for the cops to knock on the door…"

"Shit, honey, I ain't asking you to marry the guy. Just show a little loyalty- to all of us. Behave yourself and stay put." He glares at her for a moment, and then drops his shoulders. His face softens and then he holds his hand out to her. "Come on…I ain't that lousy a dancer. Would you just hold out and be here when he gets back?"

Pauline can feel her eyes filling with tears. This will be the second time today that she's cried. She's had enough. At this point, all she wants to do is go home, and she almost welcomes the shit storm her mother is no doubt planning for her when she gets there. Still- Duane is sly, she'll give him that. She can't help but wonder if Ingram could ever be as loyal to her as he is to Duane and Tim.

"Whatever," She says the only thing she can think of that will get Duane away from her and give her a moment to think. "But I don't want to dance. I want to drink."

Duane smiles. "That's my girl."

She follows him back to his table, and he pulls out a chair for her. He tells her he'll be right back, goes to the bar, and returns with a Coke.

"You asshole," she says.

"You were expecting a beer and a shot, or what?"

"One or the other would have been nice."

"Jesus, you are Mathews' sister, ain't you? You got a pretty thick skin to it? I'll get you a beer, but you'd better not be all lit when Walker gets back."

"Then he'd better hurry his ass up," Pauline says.

Duane shakes his head and goes back to the bar for the beer. There's a line now and Buck is starting to get overwhelmed. Duane leans on the bar, craning his neck to see into the parking lot whenever the door opens. He can see movement, but he can't make out the details.

Ingram will be alright, he tells himself. Nicky is an anxious fighter, and Ingram has the patience of Job. Nicky is bigger and probably wired, but Tim isn't going to let Ingram get beat too bad. He just wants to see if Ingram will stand up for the Shepard cause, whatever that is. Once it becomes clear that he will, Tim will send the rest of his boys in to take care of Nicky.

Stupid fuckin' Nicky.

Duane slides his money across the bar to Buck, picks up the glass of beer, and goes back to the table where he'd left Pauline. She is gone. Duane curses the girl quietly, and then sits down. He props his foot up in her empty chair and begins to drink her beer.

_Don't worry, baby_

_Everything will turn out alright_


	18. All I Wanted To Do Was Dance

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders, Buck's, and the Shepard Gang. "All I Wanted To Do Was Dance" is a song by Los Lobos. "Crazy Heart" is a Hank Williams song, the b-side to "I Heard That Lonesome Whistle".

Eighteen- All I Wanted To Do Was Dance

_Why did you turn on me_

_I'm the same man I used to be_

Once outside the door, Tim and the other Shepard gang members step to the side and give Ingram the full view of the parking lot. Nicky Mitchell is leaning against the hood of his brother's car. Ingram pauses to light a cigarette and then steps down from the cement veranda to face him.

"Well, Johnnie Walker," Nicky says as he stands up. "It's good to see your smiling face. This where you been hiding yourself?"

"The fuck do you want, Nicky?"

"I was looking for that little brother of mine."

Ingram blows smoke of out of the side of his mouth. "He's busy. So am I. What do you want?"

Nicky reaches out and beckons for Ingram's cigarette with his fingers. Ingram hands it to him. It's a move they've shared over and over since they were kids and scraping up change to buy a pack between the three of them- him, Nicky, and Duane- back when they still had to hide them from the Mitchell's parents and Ingram's grandmother.

Nicky takes a drag of Ingram's cigarette. He narrows his eyes to peer through the smoke. Ingram takes the opportunity to size things up. They both have blades. Nicky most likely has a gun in the waist of his jeans. He is not the type to be burdened by honor or moral quandaries. He'll shoot Ingram in the back if Ingram turns to go back in the bar. Nicky needs to leave first or Ingram is a dead man.

"You just needed a smoke, or what?" Ingram prods him.

Nicky takes a final drag and then stubs the cigarette out with his boot. Ingram is almost impressed; he had expected to have it tossed back in his face.

"Tell my brother he's wanted at home," Nicky says. By home he means by Vaughan and Gary. Neither Nicky nor Duane was ever particularly wanted in their actual home. "You, Johnnie Walker, ain't wanted for shit. I can make a case for bringing back my own brother, but I'm afraid there just ain't room for your Tennessee hillbilly ass anymore."

Ingram can't help but smile at that. "That's a damn shame, Nicky."

"It is a damned shame," Nicky replies. "It's a damned shame that you and Duane can't see just how many people y'all are going to be taking down with you, and all because you're too pansy-assed to push a little dope."

Ingram says nothing. He waits for Nicky to clarify his threat. He can feel Tim and the other Shepard Gang members behind him waiting silently and listening.

"Shepard," Nicky speaks over Ingram's head. "My buddy Vaughan would like to have a word with you. At your convenience, of course."

"Tell him when hell freezes will be good for me," Tim says.

Nicky spits out of the corner of his mouth. "I'll be sure to pass that along. So, Walker, you mind if I come in and have a drink? What's this place like? The chicks any better looking than down at the River? They put out? What about that little blonde you met at the drive-in? Gary says she's got a sweet little ass. I'd love to get a look at that for myself."

Ingram swings before he thinks. He doesn't calculate where the punch will land. If he'd done that, he'd have gone for Nicky's nose and broken it, but this one hits Nicky in the jaw instead. Nicky sprawls backwards against Duane's car and- fortunately for Ingram- hits the back of his head hard against the hood.

He drops forward in a daze, landing on his hands and knees in the dirt. Ingram takes a deep breath. He shouldn't have bit- he shouldn't have showed an ounce of emotion when Nicky mentioned Pauline. If he'd just stood there and acted dumb, maybe Nicky would have let it go. Now he's endangered her, and he has no choice but to finish this.

Just as Ingram suspected, the butt of a small handgun is glinting from the back of Nicky's belt. Nicky moves to stand again and Ingram steps forward, kicks him in the side of the head and snatches the gun from his waist. He knows Nicky well enough to be confident it's loaded. He cocks it, takes a step back out of Nicky's arm's reach, and aims at Nicky's forehead. From behind him, Ingram is sure he hears Tim Shepard grumble, "aww, shit…"

Nicky looks up at Ingram and smiles, just as Ingram figured he would do. Nicky is insane. Ingram looks back at him, frowning.

"What are you doing, Johnnie Walker? You going to shoot me? That'll be the end of you for sure, son. They'll strap you in a chair and light you up like a fucking Fourth of July."

"For doing you in I wager they'd throw me a fuckin' parade."

"You ain't going to shoot me, Walker. You got everything to lose. And who will take care of that pretty little girl while you're sitting on the row? Duane? Shit, without you, my brother'll come crawling back down to the River so fast, you'd think he was…"

Nicky is too dumb to finish his own analogy. He just stops and shakes his head. Ingram doesn't have anything either. It's taking everything he has to keep his hand from trembling.

Footsteps crunch on the gravel behind them. Ingram hears Tim sigh heavily and then say, "He'd crawl back to the River so fast, you'd think evolution was going in reverse? How's that? He'd crawl back to the River so fast, you'd think the Arkansas was running with whiskey? I like that one better."

From the corner of his eye, Ingram sees Tim's hand reach out for the gun. Ingram doesn't move.

"Walker," Tim says. "I believe it's my gang you joined, not the other way around. Gimme."

Ingram hands the gun to Tim, never taking his eyes off of Nicky. Nicky, however, is watching Tim now.

Tim clicks the hammer back in place and says to Nicky. "I think you'll find that little blond girl has a lot of friends here, Mitchell. So do Walker and Duane. If I was you, I'd keep my distance. Now take a nap."

With that, he turns the gun in his hand so that he's holding it by the muzzle. He swings and hits Nicky hard in the side of the head. Nicky collapses in the dust.

Tim turns back to towards the veranda and calls to Arden. "Hey, Nicky here needs a ride back to his own turf. Y'all got room in your trunk?"

"I suppose." Arden bounces down from the veranda and joins Tim and Ingram to stand over Nicky's unconscious body. "Damn, he's a big fucker. Maybe we should take Dawson's car."

Tim shrugs. "Did he drive himself here? Ingram, do you see his car?"

Ingram nods towards Nicky's car.

"He got keys on him?" Tim asks Arden.

Before he can answer, Ingram replies in a flat voice, "Don't need none. Key's half broke off in it. He turns it with a blade."

Arden shrugs. "Well, I got me one of them. So, I'll just drive him in his car, and Dawson can follow me."

He waves Bobby Dawson and a couple of other Shepard gang members over to help him load Nicky into his own trunk. Ingram stoops to help them, but Tim taps him on the shoulder and motions for Ingram to follow him back towards the bar. They stop at the steps and Tim leans back against the veranda. Ingram takes out his cigarettes, holds out the pack to Tim- who shakes his head, and lights one for himself.

"Damn, but Nicky Mitchell dumb as a post," Tim says. "He's right about one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"You put a bullet in anyone, Walker, and it's curtains for you. You know you're no good to me six feet under."

Ingram shrugs. "That was executed poorly. I'll give you that."

Tim grins and shakes his head. "'Executed' is a funny choice of words. I didn't take you for being such an trigger-happy kind of guy. I thought that was more Duane's personality."

"Kind of surprised myself," Ingram admits. He looks back towards Buck's front door.

Tim sees this and says, "so you and Pauline Mathews, huh?"

"I don't know," Ingram replies. Rather than give out information he's not sure he has, he tells Tim, "If Nicky says he's going to do her harm, he means it. I seen him break a girl's jaw once. Just clocked her 'cause he was drunk and feeling mean. Vaughan and them never looked twice. Me and Duane bounced him off a few walls later on, but the rest of them guys- they'll kick girls around like dogs and never think nothing about it."

"Well, you know him better than me. Do you think we have any other options? Or is it going to come down to one of us shooting him?"

Ingram drops his cigarette in the dust and looks at Tim. Tim is still grinning at him. He's serious about Nicky, Ingram is sure of that, but something about the whole situation strikes him as funny.

"Ain't sure yet," Ingram says. "I'd rather not see it come to that. Duane'll put a hole in his head himself. Truth told, I think Duane would almost prefer it be him. I don't get it, but I never had no brother."

Tim nods. "Oh, I've definitely entertained the idea of shooting my little brother. Don't think I could actually do it though."

"Duane could do it," Ingram says. Then he frowns and asks, "Where is your brother anyways?"

"Ah, fuck, went and got himself thrown in. He'll be in the reformatory till February. At least he'll be inside for the winter, I guess."

"That's too bad," Ingram replies.

"Too bad for him. It's a load off my mind. So, how long you want to give this thing with Nicky? Paulie and me, you know, we come up in school together, and she don't ever do what she's told. Getting her to lay low ain't an option. I suppose we could just keep an eye on her, you and me, and if Nicky tries anything…"

Ingram nods. "Fine by me."

"Just no more grand gestures, all right, Walker? Don't let yourself get so caught up. Nicky's got your number, man- you got more to lose than any of us."

Ingram shakes another cigarette out of his pack. He puts it in his mouth, then thinks better of it, and sticks it behind his ear instead. He nods once more to Tim, and then hops up the wooden steps on to the veranda. When Ingram opens the door to the bar, Tim can hear the opening bars of "Crazy Heart", and he can hear Ingram singing along.

_I didn't ask for much_

_Maybe I didn't ask for enough_

_Maybe I should have forced your hand_

_But all I wanted to do was dance_


	19. Romeo and Juliet

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Romeo and Juliet" is a song by Dire Straits. Yep, The Killers covered it.

Who doesn't love reviews?

**Sexual situation(s) ahead. You have been warned.**

Nineteen- Romeo and Juliet

_He finds a convenient streetlight and steps out of the shade_

_And says something like, "You and me, babe, how about it?"_

"From here on out, I'm calling the cops," is all her mother says when Pauline arrives home.

Pauline walks right on past her and goes straight to her room. She puts on a pair of Two-Bit's pajamas from middle school and pulls a shoebox full of her photographs out from under her bed.

She stands, leaning against the dressing table, leafing through the photographs but not really looking at them. In her rush to flee Ingram and Duane, she has abandoned Kathy with Two-Bit. She can add that to her ever-growing list of indiscretions. Her mother says she's reckless, Duane says she's disloyal, and Tim seems pretty confident she's a tramp. Ingram had been all right with reckless. She wonders what he'll think when he finds she's the other two.

The scraping of her bedroom window opening makes Pauline sit up straight. When she sees it's him, she scurries across the floor to stop him before he can haul himself inside.

"You can't be here," she hisses.

Ingram smiles. He can and he is. "What happened to you, darlin'?"

"Obviously, I came home. You can't be here. My mom's right out in the other room."

Ingram shrugs and leans on the window sill. His knuckles are bruised from the fight, but he doesn't appear to be injured otherwise.

"I'll just go meet your mom then."

"No, you can't. She's already pissed as hell…"

"Sure, I can. Watch me. I'll just go 'round front."

"Jesus, Ingram, don't!" Pauline raises her voice and then looks back towards her bedroom door in a panic.

"I'll cut you a deal, Pauline," he says, standing on his toes to peer at the door behind her. "Tell me why you took off and I'll forgive you for not having the decency to introduce me to your mama."

"Are you insane?"

"They seen me fit to stand trial."

The light is dim, but Pauline is sure he may have just batted his lashes in a plea for her sympathy. She wants to slap him, but she knows she couldn't possibly compete with what Nicky Mitchell was packing back at Buck's.

"Ingram, I can't talk right now. I'm in deep shit with her. I'm never going to see the outside of this room again."

"It's got a window." He takes a step back. "Nothing keeping you from coming out for a minute. I sure ain't going to stop you."

Pauline bites her lip and looks out at him. He's jammed his fists in his pockets and he's bouncing on his toes a little. He still has the post-fight jitters but he isn't smoking them off because he doesn't want it to attract her mom's attention. She wonders where his car is.

She shakes her head. "I can't, Ingram. I don't want to. I got to stick around. My dad is real sick…"

"Really? Where's he at?"

"Hospital, I guess. They won't tell me anything about him, and my mom hates his ass, so she won't even call."

Ingram nods. He looks around again and then says, "What are you doing in there anyway?"

"Looking at pictures."

"Pictures of what?"

"Just stuff. Pictures I took."

"Really?" Ingram leans forward again. "You take pictures? I never knew a photographer before. Come on, let me in. I want to see."

Against her better judgment, Pauline steps away to let him climb in. Once inside, he stands over her for a moment, looking her up and down. Her smiles at her striped pajamas.

"I used to have some like that. Mine had trains."

"Shut up," she tells him, but she's smiling back. She gestures to a stack of photographs on her dressing table. "There. Those are my pictures."

Ingram picks up the photographs, looks around, and sits down on the floor against the dressing table. Why he won't sit on the bed, Pauline has no idea, but she's sort of relieved. She hovers for a second and then sits down next to him.

The first batch of pictures are mostly architecture- abandoned buildings, broken glass, eery shadows. Ingram looks at each one. Now and then he raises his eyes and nods, but he doesn't say anything. When he gets to the second batch, the ones with people, he becomes more interested.

A year earlier, Pauline had convinced Two-Bit to snatch her a roll of 1200 speed film and then convinced him to take her to a drag race out in Catoosa. She had walked in amongst the cars as the drivers got them ready and had strayed way too close to the road for Two-Bit's liking to take pictures during the race. Two-Bit swore he'd never take her to Catoosa- or anywhere else- ever again.

"I like these," Ingram says. "We look tuff."

"Who's 'we'? You weren't there."

"No, I suppose I was still down south. There's Gary, though." He points at one of the pictures. "He's a…used to be a buddy of mine. I guess 'we' in a sense that it's our kind of people. Makes us seem important."

"Maybe I shouldn't be taking pictures like that then. I'd hate to inflate your sense of self-importance even more."

Ingram scowls, but keeps leafing through the photographs.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, who cares? I'm sick of this gang shit. You guys act like you live and die by rumbles and drag races and fights. Like it's some kind of war you're fighting. It ain't. No one cares but you."

"That why you left tonight?"

Pauline nods. Ingram fidgets a little and makes himself more comfortable. In the process, he stretches out his leg and then drapes it over top of hers.

"I figured. Well, it didn't take much figuring. Duane told me you was babbling some shit- his words- about not wanting to always be waiting around to hear if I been shot or stabbed or something."

"That's about the size of it."

"I can see that. I wouldn't want that either, if I was you."

"Then why don't you leave me alone?"

To her surprise, Ingram is not in the least taken back by that. He smiles, shakes his head and then whispers into her hair: "Because you don't want to be alone, and neither do I."

Ingram reaches back and lays the rest of the photos back on the dressing table. Then he wraps his arm around Pauline and pulls her close to his chest.

"It ain't going to be like this forever. I don't plan on selling myself to Shepard for all time, just until Vaughan and Nicky back off. I'm looking forward to fading into obscurity. What do you want to do?"

Pauline shrugs and tries to avoid looking at him. "I don't know. No one ever asks me."

"I'm asking. You should keep taking pictures. Them are pretty good."

"My mom wants me to go to college."

Ingram nods. "You should. I never gone out with a college girl before. I hear they're wild."

Pauline elbows him in the ribs and he rolls away, pulling her with him. A floorboard creaks in the living room on the other side of the door, and they both freeze. Pauline's eyes grow wide. She mouths a silent "Damnit!" at him. Ingram puts his finger to his lips and furrows his brow, as though she's the one making all the noise. He moves his hand up into her hair and pulls her face to his to kiss her. Pauline plants her hands against his chest and squirms.

She jerks her head back. "Quit."

"I want to meet her."

"No."

"Then you'd better be quiet. That door got a lock?"

"Not anymore." Pauline rolls her eyes. Glenda had made a big show out of dismantling the lock on Pauline's bedroom door the first time she caught Pauline with a joint. The lock has never been returned, but Pauline has learned to stuff a towel underneath the door.

Ingram is giggling into her neck. "Do you have any privileges left? What kind of girl are you?"

"I'm independent," Pauline says, squirming because the stubble on his cheek tickles.

"You're no good," he replies and kisses her neck. He makes his way up to her ear and whispers, "Can I touch you?"

"You are."

"You know what I mean."

Pauline turns her head and kisses him back in reply. Ingram rolls over on top of her, pushing her legs apart with this thigh. The bare skin of her stomach flutters when his fingers brush across it on their way down below the waist of her pajama bottoms. His tongue is in her mouth and his fingers are inside her, and Pauline can only smell cigarettes and his leather jacket. For a moment, the rest of her room disappears.

A tap at the bedroom door sends them both scrambling to get upright.

Two-Bit asks, "Paulie, you awake?" as he opens the door. He doesn't react other than to scowl when he sees Ingram. He looks back over his shoulder towards the living room, then steps into Pauline's room and closes the door behind him.

"Fancy meeting you here," he says to Ingram.

"How's that?" Ingram lays his right arm over Pauline's shoulder, but leaves his left free to block the punch he assumes is coming.

It doesn't.

"Shepard's looking all over for you. Brumly wants in on the thing with the Socs, but they don't like to come to Buck's. Supposed to meet with them over in our lot." Two-Bit waits for a response. His eyes meet Pauline's for a second and then he continues speaking to Ingram. "My brakes are acting up. I was going to hoof it, but maybe I'll just ride with you."

"Fine by me."

"Where's your car?"

"Down 'round the corner of the block."

"Why don't you go get it?"

Ingram nods. He turns to Pauline, intending to kiss her, but she throw up her hands in annoyance and steps away. He says quietly, "I'll see you, baby," and hops back out the window.

Before she can get any words together, Two-Bit hisses, "Goddamnit, Paulie!"

"Shut up! Did you know Dad's in the hospital?"

"What the hell do I care? It ain't my problem."

"Well, neither is that-" She gestures in the direction of Ingram's departure.

"We'll see about that. Just stay the hell off the street, will you? I don't know what's worse- the idea of you getting roughed up by Socs or what you actually drag home."

"Kiss my ass, Two-Bit. And tell Shepard he can kiss it, too."

Two-Bit takes a frustrated step towards her, and she steps back not knowing what he intends to do. Two-Bit doesn't know either. He hasn't hit her in years, not since they were matched evenly enough in size for her to give him a real fight. It's crossed his mind enough times, but these days he's usually content just to trade insults.

This time, he's out of words, though, and so he sweeps his hand across her dressing table and sends her pile of snapshots flying towards her. Her mouth opens and shuts in protest, but no sound comes out. Satisfied that she is sufficiently wounded, Two-Bit turns and walks out, slamming the door behind him.

_There's a place for us- you know the movie song_

_When are you going to realize it was just that the time was wrong?_


	20. No Surrender

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders, still. "No Surrender" is a wonderful rumble song by Bruce Springsteen, and we aren't even rumbling yet.

Twenty- No Surrender

_Now on the street tonight the lights grow dim_

_The walls of my room are closing in_

_There's a war outside still raging_

_You say it ain't ours anymore to win_

Ingram's car is sitting in front of the house, the motor humming softly. Next to his, Two-Bit knows it looks and sounds like a fucking chariot to the Promised Land- probably the first of many things about this River King weirdo that charms Pauline. Leave it to her to find herself a guy a million times creepier than Shepard, one with a bigger record and a price on his head to boot, but still a guy with a pretty decent car.

Two-Bit opens the passenger door and plunks himself down beside Ingram.

"You know where?" He asks.

Ingram nods, but keeps his cigarette in his mouth and says nothing.

Two-Bit fidgets. Out of habit, he opens the glove compartment looking for something to drink. Instead, he finds the spark plugs, the owner's manual, and the gun.

"That ain't mine," Ingram says without being asked.

"What? The spark plugs?" Two-Bit slams the glove box shut.

"Ain't my gun. Took it off of Duane last week 'cause I thought he was going to shoot his brother. Funny story that." Ingram looks sideways at Two-Bit, but gets only a shrug as a reply. Ingram shakes his head. "I got no fondness for guns myself."

"Really? Could've fooled me back at Buck's. I bet you fooled Nicky Mitchell."

"I doubt it. He knows me better than I'd like to think," Ingram replies. He tosses his spent cigarette out the window and says, "I'm afraid I got your sister in some trouble."

Two-Bit's eyes open wide. "That quick? How do you know?"

Ingram laughs for the first time all night. "No, son, not like that. I mean, I think I brought some trouble down upon her. These guys from my old gang seen me with her. Nicky was making threats that he'd like to get to know her better."

"Well, fuck you very much," Two-Bit says. "How do intend to make that right?"

"Me and Tim's going to keep an eye on her."

Two-Bit snorts. "Tim's had his eye on her for two and half years. Lot of good it's ever done her. You talk to her about it?"

"Nah, she took off on me from Buck's and then you walked in just now…"

"And obviously, you were deep in conversation right then."

Ingram struggles to get a line on Two-Bit. He has every right to be angry with Ingram, but still everything that comes out of his mouth is funny, almost as if it's against his will.

"I was getting around to it," Ingram says. "I get the feeling she ain't going to be easy to keep track of."

"Ah, Jesus," Two-Bit says. "I could tell you stories. Maybe I should, and maybe you'd let her go."

This time, he is serious. Ingram looks at him out of the corner of his eye. Two-Bit is glaring straight ahead, drumming his fingers on the dash.

Two-Bit knows better than to tell a guy like Ingram "you can't". Try to order him around and he'll just dig his heels in. He might not even give a damn about Pauline, but he'll hang around and keep putting it to her just to prove that he can. Two-Bit wonders if this is how Marty Rose feels and why he keeps his mouth shut and his eyes locked on something in the distance when Two-Bit comes around to pick up Kathy.

The vacant lot that sits on the edge of Curtis and Shepard territories is lined on one side with cars. A few more are creeping down the street from the north- boys from Brumly. The Shepards have lit a fire in a barrel and are standing around it drinking beer. Ingram spots Duane leaning against the trunk of a stripped and abandoned Chevrolet. From the east, a couple of members of the Curtis gang are moving in on foot. He recognizes Sodapop and Steve. There is another one with them he hasn't seen before- a smallish figure with pale hair.

Ingram parks his car behind Duane's. Two-Bit leaves him without another word and hurries to join Steve and Soda.

Ingram lights another cigarette before getting out of his car and then walks across the lot. He nods to Tim, who scowls at him, and sits down next to Duane on the bumper of the abandoned Chevy.

"I ought to beat your head in myself," Duane mutters to him. "You went after that girl, didn't you?"

"So what if I did?"

"You know she used to be Shepard's girl?"

"Well, she ain't now."

"See if it matters to him, fucker," Duane says. He takes Ingram's' cigarette from him and takes a drag. He looks at Ingram through the smoke and grins. "Can't you just go through girls like handkerchiefs like a normal guy? You always got to get all hung up on them."

"I got to hold on to the ones I get," Ingram replies. "You don't leave that many left over."

He snatches the cigarette back and winks at Duane.

"So what do we have here?" Ingram asks.

Duane rolls his eyes. "Brumly: bunch halfwit goat ropers."

"That they is. Why, though?"

"Socs. Christ on a cracker, after all that went down tonight, these fools still think it's the Socs they got to beat. I swear, they keep a-fighting with them so they don't have to deal with the real shit going down on their own turf."

"Well, ain't you Winston Churchill."

"We both know I ain't, buddy, but look at them boys. Look at Arlen and Bobby. They're both about as straight as the road to nowhere right now. Shepard thinks he's got them under control, but he don't. He sent them to take Nicky back down to the River, and they came back high as kites."

Ingram squints across the yard to look more closely at Arlen and Bobby. They're fidgety, Duane is right, and not like Two-Bit was in the car. Two-Bit is on edge about his missing friends and about his sister. Shepard's boys are wired.

"I'd say you're right about that," Ingram says. "So, now what?"

"We do what we said we'd do," Duane says, reaching for the cigarette again. "We beat some Soc's heads in. How hard can that be? I'd just say that we can't depend on none of Shepard's boys except Shepard himself- maybe the little brother, what good he's going to be- to back us."

"Curtis boys," Ingram offers.

"Now that you've ingratiated yourself to Mathews by banging his sister? How did that fit into the master plan, buddy?"

"Ain't no master plan," Ingram says, grinning at him.

Duane flicks ashes at Ingram. The three gang factions are beginning to move together and shake hands with one another's membership. Duane and Ingram stand to join them.

"Sounds about right," Duane mumbles, "coming from a guy who don't believe in Jesus Christ and Santa Claus."

"You believe in Santa Claus?" Ingram asks. "How old are you now? I thought Nicky sat you down and had that little talk."

"Nah, you can't rely on Nicky for nothing," Duane says and claps Ingram on the back of the head. They're both smiling when they step into the group next to Steve Randle and Sodapop Curtis.

Steve slaps his hand into Ingram's. Sodapop stands beside him, the only other smiling face in the bunch. Ingram likes Sodapop. He likes working with him. He isn't as meticulous with tools and parts as Steve, but he has an energy that makes the whole day fly by. He lacks confidence, but with coaxing Ingram already has him moving away from pumps and windshield wipers and into serious engine work.

"You know Duane?" Ingram asks him.

Soda nods.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Ingram replies, winking at Soda and Steve.

The beam from the headlights of a car trails across them. On instinct, they all turn to see who it is, namely if it's a cop. They spread out from one another in an attempt to make their ranks look larger.

The car parks and the driver turns the lights off. In the light from the streetlamp, Ingram can see it's a tiny Corvette, dark in color. In his head, he calculates the particulars of the car- how many cylinders, what kind of pick-up. He guesses Steve Randle is doing the same. Everyone else is honed in on the driver.

It is a girl, a young one. She comes around the side of the car, but doesn't move any closer to the crowd of boys in the center of the lot. The pale light glints off of her red hair. She is trying to stand straight and look tuff herself, but she keeps wanting to scrunch her shoulders against the night air.

Arlen whistles under his breath and says, "Well, what do we have here?"

"Shit, she must be scared as hell," Duane states the obvious. It is unclear from his tone whether he finds that amusing or if he feels sympathetic towards the Soc girl.

"I'll bet," Arlen replies with a snicker. "I bet she's real good and jumpy. You want to have a go with her, Mitchell?"

Duane shakes his head. "Man, she's just a little schoolgirl. That's more Johnnie Walker's preference than mine."

Ingram can feel Two-Bit's eyes on him and he mumbles, "boy, why don't you kiss my ass," to Duane.

Finally, Tim says, "Jesus, we ain't asking her to the prom. Somebody just go on and talk to her. Dally, Two-Bit, it's you that knows her, ain't it?"

Now Ingram recognizes Dallas Winston. He's heard plenty about him, although the boy was just a kid when Ingram was sent to McAllister. Dally ran mostly with the rodeo set so he and Ingram had never really crossed paths. From what he's heard, though, Dally strikes Ingram as completely the wrong person to send as an envoy to a terrified sixteen year-old girl.

Two-Bit, however, might be just the man for the job. He says something- Ingram can't hear what- that puts a smile on the girl's face and her stance opens up. She and Dally speak to each other, too, but avoid eye contact. If he didn't know better, Ingram would think they were making plans to go to the prom. The girl ducks her eyes and wraps her red hair back behind her ear whenever she speaks to Dally.

Their conversation is short, and the girl does most of the talking. She speaks quickly and her hand movements are quick and apologetic. She had wanted to please someone, but things aren't working out the way she had planned. When they are finished speaking, the three of them stand there for an uncomfortable few moments shuffling their feet. Then the girl shrugs and gets back in her car. Two-Bit and Dally wait for her to drive away before returning to the group.

"All right, she says…" Dally begins, but Arlen cuts him off.

"She says? What the hell? Since when are the cheerleaders calling the shots?"

"Shut it," Tim tells him.

Dally glares at Arlen. "She carries the message from the Socs, some fool named Adderson. He was there when Johnny and Pony got jumped. She says he wants just a skin rumble, just like we do. He's having some trouble convincing the rest of them, though."

"Don't make no goddamned difference to me," one of the Brumly faction says. "I say let's bring heaters and mow the whole bunch of them down."

"Yeah, let's do that," Steve snarls. "Let's do that up in Brumly, on your turf. Ain't going to be no gunfight down here."

"Let's do it," the Brumly leader, presumably since he is the only one who has spoken, says. "Y'all planning a community garden for this space or what? Let's do it up on our turf, and we'll solve your Soc problem, I'll guaran-damn-tee."

Tim rolls his eyes. "We're doing it here. Skin on skin. Don't make a difference to me, either, except that heaters draw cops, and you know who's going to get hauled in if the cops show. Ain't going to be the boys in the letter sweaters."

The Brumly leader gives in. "Fine. When? When does the cheerleader say we're going to rumble?"

Dally spits on the ground and says, "Thursday night. She's going to talk to Adderson and them one more time to make sure we're straight, and then she'll meet me and Mathews again. Just him and me. This whole situation spooked her a little."

"Can't imagine why," Bobby Dawson says.

"Yeah, you all are some serious thugs. You frightened a cheerleader," the Brumly leader grumbles.

"Hey, son," Duane, who has been leaning against Ingram's shoulder, stands up to his full height and scowls. "You're pretty fucking mouthy for a guy as far away from home as you are."

The Brumly leader smirks. "Is that Duane Mitchell? You're fucking cocky for being a man without a country. I got to question Shepard's judgement taking a couple of backstabbing SOBs like y'all under his wing."

"Go ahead and question it," Duane says. "I'll show you exactly why he took us in."

Ingram looks at Tim, waiting for him to intervene. Tim smiles politely at the Brumly leader, but remains silent. Instead, it is Two-Bit who speaks up.

"Hold the hell on, will you? You fuckers even remember why we're here? It ain't Shepard's thing or a Brumly thing. It's us- it's our two little kids who's lost and on the run because of the Socs. If all y'all are here for is to get caught up fighting one another, then you can go on home and we'll take 'em ourselves. We won't get too far, but at least I'll know who's got my back."

"Take it easy, Duane," Ingram says quietly, and then to Two-Bit, "we got your back. It's Soda's brother they hurt, so it's our little brother too."

Two-Bit glares at him. "My heart's a-flutter. Don't think that's going to guarantee you shit when your buddies from the River come after you. Rumble's a rumble, but I will kill you if anything happens to my sister."

Ingram blinks and suppresses a smile. _There it is_, he thinks. The angry and crazy side of the court jester has come to the surface. He knew it had to be in there somewhere. The zingers and one-liners are always just part of the mask with these funny guys. Ingram knew guys like Two-Bit in the pen- they kept everyone in stitches, but push them too far and they'd have you in stitches in the infirmary.

"What the fuck?" He hears Steve whisper.

Soda says, "Whose idea was it to plant a garden? Shit, maybe we should just do that. I'm for gardening. Who's with me?"

"Aww, shit," Tim says and tosses his empty beer can at Ingram. His misses and it bounces off Two-Bit's chest. Two-Bit takes a step back.

"Thursday night, fuckers. Can we all just save it for Thursday night?" Tim is almost laughing. "No chains, no heaters, no shit. Just bring your sunny dispositions, all right?"

"And your trowels," Soda pipes up.

"No, I think that would qualify as a weapon," Steve tells him.

The Brumly crowd is confused at the sudden diffusion. One of them asks, "Is he serious?"

His companion replies, "I don't know. I could do some damage with a trowel."

"You don't have a trowel, fucker. What's a trowel anyway?"

"It's like a little shovel," and they keep arguing as they sander back across the lot towards their cars.

Ingram rolls his neck and stares up at the sky. As the rest of the crowd begins to disperse, he finds himself standing next to Tim and Dally.

"You know Ingram Walker?" Tim says.

Dally shakes his head. Ingram offers his hand, which Dally seems reluctant to shake.

"This here's Dally," Tim tells Ingram. "No one really likes him, save for that little redheaded broad."

Dally rolls his eyes.

Ingram smiles. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet someone even more unpopular than myself."

Dally smirks and says nothing. Tim shrugs at Ingram.

"Hey, Ingram, see you at work," Soda calls. Steve waves back to him and they begin heading north together, turning cartwheels and bouncing off of one another's shoulders. Ingram watches them go, trying to remember a time when he and Duane and Nicky were ever that carefree.

_Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend_

_No retreat, baby, no surrender_


	21. Mama Don't Like My Man

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. For those of you playing along at home, it is day four of Johnny and Ponyboy's exile in Windrixville. Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, who sometimes tour with Fitz and the Tantrums from Chapter One, perform "Mama Don't Like My Man".

Twenty-One- Mama Don't Like My Man

_Don't like the way he's dressed or the cigarettes he smokes_

_Don't like the company he keeps or the color of his jokes_

"All right, Johnnie Walker, where'd you hide that gun?"

"Didn't hide it. I ain't seen it. Maybe the fairies made off with it." Ingram is leaning forward towards his bathroom mirror, dragging a razor up under his chin. Duane began his search for the gun while Ingram was in the shower. He has been shouting through the door to Ingram, begging for clues. Once out of the shower and half-dressed, Ingram opened the door to keep an eye on Duane's lack of progress.

Duane leans in the bathroom doorway, hanging on the doorframe above him. He scowls at Ingram.

"Let me get this straight- you don't believe in God and Jesus and all them, but you want me to believe that you think fairies took my gun?"

Ingram continues shaving. "From what I recollect being told- by some Bible Beater in the pen, mind you- there ain't no denying the existence of someone named Jesus who was crucified by the Romans way back when. That's just history. I happen to not believe that such a person rose from the dead three days later and that our misdeeds towards him will bring about the end of the world."

"But fairies took my gun?"

"I didn't say that. I said they may have. Seems just about as likely."

"Little man, you are going straight to hell. My mama would about knock you cold for talking like that. What are you getting so dolled up for anyways?"

"Nice of you to notice," Ingram says and winks at him. " I'm going to head on over and see if Pauline wants to go out."

"Really? You think that's a good idea after what her brother said to you last night?"

"You know what I remember from last night? Tim saying no heaters at the rumble."

"Rumble ain't what I want it for."

"Oh yeah, and what do you want it for?"

"Because it's mine, and I want to know where it is. I feel it's my civic duty as a gun owner to know the location of my firearm…"

Ingram drops his head in a fit of quiet laughter. "You ain't no gun owner. You stole that thing. That makes you a gun trafficker at best. And, shit, your civic duty…"

"Like you're the goddamned last word on civility. You think you're going to fool that girl's mama showing up on her doorstep all clean-shaven and looking bashful? She's going to eat you alive, son. Hell, maybe you ought to keep my gun, where ever you and the fairies have it spirited away."

Ingram pulls his t-shirt over his head and ducks passed Duane out into the kitchen. He smoothes his hair back in place and begins to loop his belt through his clean pair of jeans.

"Ain't going to find that gun, Mitchell," he says.

"Well, you ain't going to impress anyone's mama, John Ingram Walker. You still got engine oil on your hands."

Ingram regards his hands and shrugs. "That never comes off."

* * *

Ingram has only been to the Mathews house in the dark before, and he couldn't see much other than to tell it had a porch and a tree out front. Now, in the light of the early evening, he can see it looks rough. Right off, he picks out about fourteen things he thinks he could fix.

He shuts off the car and gets out, frowning at the house. He takes a final drag off of his cigarette and flips the butt into the street. He crosses the yard and steps on to the porch

The main door to the house is open and Ingram can hear the television through the screen. He taps on door frame.

"It's open," Pauline's brother yells from somewhere.

Ingram steps inside. Two-Bit comes out of the kitchen, beer in hand. He stops and leans back against the wall when he sees Ingram.

"Howdy," he says.

"Evening," Ingram says.

"Can I help you?"

Ingram smiles. He's put quite a bit of thought towards how he's going to approach this. "Yeah, is your mom home?"

"My mom?" Two-Bit raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'd like to talk to your mom."

Two-Bit grins, albeit a little hesitantly. "She's a little old for you, isn't she?"

"I'd suspect she is. No, I was going to ask if Pauline wanted to get something to eat, but since she's in a world of hurt with your mom, I figured I'd better ask her."

Two-Bit's grin fades. It seems that the idea of Ingram going out with Pauline is more distasteful to him than the idea of Ingram going out with his mom. He inhales deeply, collecting his words, but Ingram continues before he can get started.

"Listen, man, I know I went about this all ass-backwards. I'd just like to see if I can back things up a little and try doing it again the right way. So, I was going to ask your mom…"

"You're going to back things up and try it the right way, but it's still headed in the same direction, ain't it?"

"Only direction it's headed in tonight is me and your sister getting something to eat. We both know she and I ain't really done much talking yet. Maybe she'll find out she hates me, and then it'll all be over and done with."

Two-Bit narrows his eyes. "I doubt we'll all be that lucky. I suppose I can always hope that in all your talking you'll discover you hate her."

"You ain't going to be that lucky," Ingram grins at him. "I think I'm going to be just fine with her."

"Really? You seem pretty certain. Why don't you tell me just what kind of girl you think my sister is, and then I'll tell you how wrong you are."

"Is your mom even here?" Ingram asks. He gets the feeling she's not, and he's not interested in wasting any more time arguing with Two-Bit.

"No, she ain't. She's at work, and Paulie's with her."

It crosses Ingram's mind to ask why Two-Bit isn't at work, but he figures it's none of his business. He could be working on fixing up the house, Ingram thinks, but that is also another fight for another day.

"Where's she work at?"

"Bar on 76th called Elaine's. She's been making Pauline check in with her after school. Good luck getting her out of there."

Ingram nods. He knows the place. He's been there, maybe crossed paths with Pauline's mother. He wonders how he was behaving then, if he had. He takes a step back towards the door.

"Pauline's a whole lot of smoke and mirrors," He says to Two-Bit. "She's smart enough to do about anything she wanted if she knew what it was she wanted to do. Anything but be hard and cold. She thinks she is. Everyone but her, though, can see that she ain't. That sound about right?"

Two-Bit's mouth curls up at the side in a half-smile. He nods and raises his beer to Ingram. "That's her. Can I ask what it is you plan to do with that information? A guy can do a lot of damage to a girl who doesn't know what she wants."

"No, sir, not me," Ingram says. "I think I'll just enjoy myself sitting back to watch her figure it out."

Two-Bit doesn't know what that means. Ingram widens his eyes and grins and then turns and steps across the porch, letting the screen door slam behind him. Two-Bit watches him drive away and then looks to the phone. He ponders calling his mom and suggesting she send Pauline home for the evening, but then he decides to let it be. Knowing Pauline, she'd find herself on some kind of detour, and then there'd be hell to pay.

* * *

The locally famous Elaine's Bar and Grill sits on a treeless busy street, crammed in between a pool hall and a TV. repair shop. It is run by the locally famous Elaine, who- having raised her own brood and scattered them to various labor camps, cults, and correctional facilities, has no issue with Glenda Mathews ordering Pauline to do her homework at the bar after school. The business woman in Elaine believes that a young girl sitting at the bar, even one working on her biology homework, attracts customers.

Pauline is sitting at the bar reading from her textbook about cell systems when Ingram walks in. She sees him, but pretends she doesn't. He comes up next to her and leans in to see what she's reading.

"Biology?"

"Yep."

"I done some of that."

"Have you?"

"I dissected a worm."

"That's fascinating." She can't help it; she has to smile. He's trying to be so serious, and he smells good. He still smells like cigarettes and his jacket, but he isn't sweaty anymore. He smells like shaving cream, too. "So, what's going on, Pauline?"

"I thought we just cleared that up. What's going on with you?"

He pulls himself up on to a barstool next to her and spins himself so that his back is to the bar. He looks around at the few patrons, most of them drinking alone at their tables or booths.

He says to her, "I was going to go across the street here and have a burger. Thought I'd see if you wanted to join me."

"How did you know I was here?"

"Stopped by your house. Two-Bit told me."

Pauline scowls. She doesn't like the idea of Two-Bit and Ingram being alone together to talk about anything.

"Really? What else did Two-Bit tell you?"

Ingram grins. He fishes a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and then spins himself playfully on the stool to face the bar. He reaches past Pauline for a book of matches.

"Nothing I didn't already know. Told him I was looking for your mom, and that about turned him fish-belly white."

"Why would you tell him that?"

"Because I thought I ought to meet your mom. Sneaking around on her don't seem to be doing you a lot of good. I thought maybe if I introduced myself and she got a look at what a fine and upstanding citizen I am…"

Pauline spits out a laugh.

"What?" Ingram is incredulous. "I know I ain't no Kennedy, but I sure as hell ain't no Shepard neither."

Pauline's smile fades. "What's that supposed to mean? How do you know about that?"

"Know about what? Why don't you tell me what there is to know?"

Pauline scowls and attempts to go back to her biology book, indicating that it's none of his business. Ingram flips the book closed with his fingers. When she looks up to face him again, he's still smiling.

"Come on. What about it, darlin'? Let's ask your mama if we can go across the street and get a burger?"

"She can get a burger here," Glenda has emerged from the kitchen. She speaks to them as she hurries past with a loaded tray. Ingram straightens himself up, and then hops down from the stool to stand when she turns back in their direction again. Pauline winces.

Glenda walks passed Ingram and Pauline and goes back behind the bar. She feels bigger with it between her and them.

Ingram smiles at her and nods. "Ma'am."

Glenda fights the urge to roll her eyes. "Pauline, why don't you introduce your friend? And then tell him you have homework to do."

Pauline opens her mouth to speak, but Ingram is already talking.

"Ingram Walker, ma'am, and I understand she has homework. I was just going to see if she wanted to step across the street and have a bite to eat. I'll bring her right back. We won't go driving or nothing."

"You're damned right you won't. Ingram? What kind of name is that?"

Ingram shrugs. He's been asked this a million times, and he has a stock answer. "It's my middle name. My first name's John, but just about everyone in my family's named John."

"And how do you know Pauline? Or did you spot her from the street just now and think to yourself that she needed a break from doing her homework?"

"No, ma'am. We met at the drive-in a couple nights back."

Pauline feels a cloud of doom move over her as she sees the realization dawn on her mother. Glenda begins to smile, but it's a knowing and devious smile.

"Oh, so that was you, the one who brought her home at six-thirty in the morning all stoned and hickied up. Yes, it is wonderful to finally meet you."

Ingram swallows and looks from side to side, either to stall or to look for assistance. He knows that explaining that he got a little too enthusiastic having just gotten out of prison and all probably isn't going fly. It isn't going to work to lie to her either.

He looks back at Glenda and nods. "Yes, ma'am, and I apologize for that. That was no way to act with a young lady."

"So, now how do you figure it's going to be all right for you to waltz in here and ask to take her out of my sight again?"

"Oh, I didn't really expect it to be all right, ma'am," Ingram says, scratching his head. "She's a nice girl, though, so I thought it was worth a shot."

Pauline is dying on her bar stool. She's furious at Ingram because he's embarrassing her to death, and yet he's saying some of the sweetest things anyone has ever said about her. She knows her mother thinks he's full of shit, but Pauline herself is melting.

Glenda glances at Pauline. Oh, Jesus- the girl is positively melting. Being raised in the company of men like Paul and Two-Bit has left Pauline fairly cynical and dismissive when it comes to boys. There are times when Glenda wishes, just for a moment, she could see her daughter drop that wall and be dazzled by some charmer. Now that its happening- and happening with someone who does not appear to be any kind of boy Pauline's age- Glenda has no idea why she ever wished for that.

Still, the look is there, and Glenda is tired of fighting with Pauline and failing in her attempts to keep the girl in check.

Glenda, avoiding eye contact with Ingram, says to her daughter, "I want you back here in forty-five minutes."

Pauline cocks her eyebrow. "Why forty-five minutes? Why not just an even hour?"

"Why not shut your mouth and thank God for small favors, Pauline Marie? You and him go across the street to that diner, and nowhere else, and then you come back. Remember what I told you if I lost track of you again?"

Pauline nods and says to Ingram, "She's going to call the cops."

"Well, we can't have that," Ingram replies, and he certainly cannot. He looks up at the Grain Belt clock on the wall behind the bar. "Six-thirty, then. Six-thirty this evening, not in the morning."

"Very good," Glenda says. She grinds her teeth as she watches them walk out of the bar and across the street. He holds the door open for Pauline. As they step into the street, he wraps his arm loosely but protectively across her back. When they reach the other side, they pause and kiss quickly before disappearing into the diner.

Glenda shakes her head, wondering if they really think crossing the street safely is such a reason to celebrate.

_You say he's rough around the edges_

_He don't always act right_

_But when we're all alone, don't you know he treats me right_


	22. Ain't Even Done With The Night

SE Hinton owns it. "Ain't Even Done With the Night" is a sweet, old John Mellencamp song. He claims not to like it much.

Twenty-Two- Ain't Even Done With the Night

_Well, our hearts beat like thunder_

_I don't know why they don't explode_

_You got your hands in my back pockets_

_And Sam Cooke's singing on the radio_

"See where the power of positive thinking will get you?" Ingram says to Pauline as he releases her from a kiss and opens the diner door for her.

"Was that positive thinking? I thought it was shameless flirting."

"With your mom? Nah, she wasn't going to fall for that. She ain't like you."

Pauline sticks her tongue out at him. He snaps at it with his thumb and index finger and then motions towards an empty booth. She slides in on one side and he sits down next to her, leaving the opposite side empty.

"Did you mean that? That you think I'm a nice girl?" Pauline asks him. She's trying to look intent on the menu, but she's smiling. "Or did you just say that to charm my mom?"

"I meant it. Why? Ain't you a nice girl?"

"Depends on who you ask. Maybe not."

Ingram grins and shakes his head. "Who told you that you ain't a nice girl? Was that Shepard?"

"God, do we have to talk about him? If we're going to eat and all?"

Ingram laughs. "No, we do not. I'm just curious what's got you convinced that you're such a bad girl. So far, all's I seen you do is smoke a little weed and run your mouth."

"You seem to be forgetting…"

"What? After the drive-in? I didn't think you were too bad at that at all."

Pauline cracks up and turns towards the window as the waitress comes to the table. Ingram has to order for both of them because Pauline is overcome by giggles every time she tries to speak. The waitress retreats, looking annoyed.

Ingram reaches past Pauline for the ash tray. He lights a cigarette and stretches his arm around her.

"Listen," he says. "Maybe the better question is why are you so bent on convincing me that you ain't nice? I ain't seen you kick any puppies. None of them pictures you took looked too dirty."

"Ah, you didn't see the other pictures." She gives him a devious smile.

"The other pictures? Well, I look forward to that."

The door opens behind them. Pauline turns to look, mostly to avoid making eye contact with Ingram and cracking up again. She stops laughing, though, and nudges his arm with her elbow.

Ingram turns to look. Vaughan Childs greets him with a sly smile. Rather than wait for an invitation that isn't going to come, he slides into booth across from Ingram and Pauline.

"Johnnie Walker," he says to Ingram and winks at Pauline. "Hi, honey."

When neither Ingram nor Pauline says anything, Vaughan lights a cigarette and continues the conversation with himself:

"Why, hello, Vaughan. Lovely evening, ain't it? Kind of night that makes a fellow just glad to be alive. And how are you? Well, I got to say I'm a little concerned about a few things. I'd like to discuss them with my buddy, Ingram, here, but I want to be real good and sure he's listening before I start prattling on and on…"

Vaughan stops and looks Ingram in the eye. "You listening, Walker?"

"I can hear you."

"Why don't you tell your girl to talk a walk?"

"How many guys you got waiting in that car out front?" Ingram asks him. "She ain't going anywhere."

Vaughan leans back, stretching his arms over the back of the booth. He looks Pauline over in a way that makes her feel naked and cold. Underneath the table, she touches her knee to Ingram's.

"Nicky told me he paid y'all a little visit at Buck's. Or he was trying to pay a visit to Duane, and you intervened. You got a strange relationship- you and Duane."

"What's strange about it?"

"Oh, I didn't mean nothing offensive," Vaughan says- again with that smile, meaning that he absolutely meant it to be as offensive as possible. "I mean, he does live at your place and all, but what I really don't understand is how y'all find it so easy to cut the rest of us out of your happy little world. To hear Nick tell it, you were ready to put him down, Johnnie Walker."

"Was his gun. I'd say he was just as willing to do the same to me." Ingram doesn't take his eyes from Vaughan's but he can feel Pauline look up at him. She doesn't know what they're talking about, and he had hoped to keep it from her- or at least tell her on his own terms.

"That's another thing. If Nicky was to shoot you, Walker, it'd be because I told him to. Nicky's just that loyal. What he told me, though- and this is Nicky, so he's loyal, but he's also given to exaggeration- is that it wasn't Duane's wellbeing that got you all fired up."

Ingram stubs out his cigarette. "Let's go outside, Vaughan. Pauline, y'all stay here."

"Come on, Walker, don't you want her to hear this? I mean, it's kind of sweet," Vaughan says. "Nicky said you was all happy and willing to put a hole in his head over a girl- I would assume this girl. You're a hopeless romantic, Johnnie Walker. You know that? And I do emphasize the word 'hopeless'."

They all fall silent as the waitress appears with Ingram and Pauline's food. She asks if Vaughan would like anything.

Vaughan shakes his head. He again looks at Pauline when he replies, "no, ma'am. I'll just have some of Ingram's. I know he'll share what he's got with me."

Pauline feels sick. She's listened to her brothers and Kathy's brothers and all of their friends trade innuendos about girls back and forth for years- since before any of them really knew what those innuendos implied. What Vaughan seems to be implying even Tim or Marty wouldn't say out loud, or at least wouldn't use it as a threat.

"Outside," Ingram says and stands up. Pauline grips the edge of the seat with her fingers to keep from yanking him back in next to her.

Vaughan's tone changes abruptly. "When'd you start giving orders, Johnnie Walker?"

"Since I quit taking them. Let's go."

"Have it your way. Kiss your boyfriend goodbye, baby. Unlike Nicky, I don't have to wait for orders, and unlike your faggot boyfriend, I ain't going to stop to think twice."

Ingram says to Pauline, "I'll be right back, darlin'," but she knows he isn't sure about that because he takes his wallet out and leaves the money for the food on the table.

Pauline's mind is blank. She wants to scream for help from the other customers in the diner. She can't believe the waitress doesn't see that something is wrong. She cannot fathom what in the hell Ingram thinks he is doing.

When the lights flash through the window, she thinks maybe she is having a seizure. They are blinding and they spin and change colors. Pauline is sure she is losing consciousness, and she's furious with herself as what she considers to be abandoning Ingram.

Vaughan has stopped in the doorway of the diner, which he is holding open for Ingram. The lights stream over both of their faces. Unlike Pauline, Ingram knows he isn't having a seizure. He smiles, nodding to Vaughan and steps back into the diner.

He taps Pauline's shoulder. "We'd better ask to have that boxed up, darlin'."

Pauline looks up at him, mystified. He points to the clock over the counter. It is 6:35.

"Your mama ain't fooling around. She must've called 'em at six-thirty on the dot."

Pauline drops her head to the table, unsure whether to laugh or cry. When she looks up again, the police have left their squad car and are ticketing Vaughan for parking in a fire lane. The other three occupants of the car- Ingram had called that one correctly- are being cited for loitering.

* * *

Glenda rolls her eyes as Ingram and Pauline stroll back in to Elaine's.

"Shouldn't you be in some kind of locked facility by now?" She asks.

"Me or him?" Pauline replies.

"Probably the both of you. I meant you."

"I guess they thought I didn't pose as much of a threat to peace and order as those guys," Pauline says.

Glenda herds them both into a booth. They sit and begin to unbox their food. Glenda sits down across from them, and shakes her head when Ingram offers her some of his fries.

"Who were those guys?" She asks, and then says to Ingram, "and before you let her do all the talking, I'll have you know she's a terrible liar."

"She is, ain't she? She keeps trying to tell me how much she don't like me."

"It ain't _her_ not liking you that's going to be your problem, Mr. Walker," Glenda tells him. "What just happened over there?"

Already, Pauline has come to know the look Ingram gets when the wheels are turning in his head. There is a particular look, just like Two-Bit and his cocked eyebrow. Ingram tends to lean back, lean his head back a little bit too, and smile a closed-mouth smile. He doesn't really look cocky or sly. He looks almost embarrassed at the brilliant remark that he expects is going to come out of his mouth.

"Them are some guys I used to run with, ma'am. I been trying to shake them and run with a different sort of crowd. Maybe run with the sort of people more like your daughter…"

"But you haven't quite been able to shake them," Glenda finishes for him.

"It would seem not, ma'am."

"Have you put my daughter in some kind of danger, Ingram?"

Ingram's body language changes. He no longer has anything brilliant to say. He leans forward again and lays his hands on the table, as if he expects to be cuffed and carted away.

"I may have."

"Give me a cigarette, if you got one," Glenda says to Ingram. He does and leans in across the table to light it for her.

Glenda inhales a couple of times, and then says, "Pauline, go finish your homework- do not open your mouth. I moved your books up by the front window there. Go on and let me talk to Ingram."

Pauline stands up, frowning. Her mother has moved her books as far across the bar from the booth where she sits with Ingram as they can possibly be. Pauline sighs in frustration, but does as she is told.

Confident that she is out of earshot, Glenda says to Ingram, "You little son of a bitch. And I thought my husband was worthless. He has yet to get me killed, though. Thought he might leave me to starve to death a few times, but this…What are you going to do about this?"

"They're going to keep harassing her, ma'am. I know you had wanted her here with you after school, but I have to say I'd feel better if she was with me."

"Oh, I'm sure that would make you feel much better."

Ingram can't keep from smiling at that one. Pauline and Two-Bit and Glenda are all cut from the same cloth. He dreads someday having to meet the father.

"Ma'am, I ain't going to take her back to my house." He feels it might be a good thing to insert that fact that he has a house. He doesn't live at home like Two-Bit or Tim Shepard. He's far from perfect, but at least he's independent, right? "I have a job. I work with her friend, Sodapop, at that DX station. Place is a madhouse after school. She could actually be some help to me, if she wanted to run the till."

"For how long?"

"Well, we close at five. I'd bring her home…"

"No, how long does this go on?" Glenda says through her cigarette. "When does the thing with your former-friends end?"

"I'll end it," he says.

"Not good enough. You seem like a smart boy…"

Ingram frowns and looks down at his burger when she says it. He has not often been told that. Really, the only other person who ever told him that was his grandmother. "You're a smart boy, Ingram," she would tell him. "You _know_ right from wrong. Now you got to just _do_ what's right."

When he raises his eyes to look at Glenda again, she continues, "I want you to end this, and I want you to do it without getting her or you killed. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says, although he has no idea how.

"All right. You'd better give her a ride home," Glenda says. She adds, "To my house."

"Yes, ma'am," Ingram says. He smiles and nods to her as he stands up. Glenda gathers the box from the diner burgers on her tray and goes to throw it out. She doesn't watch Ingram and Pauline go. She excuses herself to step out into the alley behind the diner to finish her cigarette in the deceptively quiet night.

* * *

But right off the bat, Ingram defies Glenda and breaks his promise to Two-Bit. He explains the plan to Pauline once they are in the car- she will now come to the DX after school. She can use her big, bad attitude to drive off some of those pesky high school girls who come around to waste Sodapop's time.

"Where are we going now?" Pauline asks. She did hear her mother say that Ingram was to take her home, but they are headed in the opposite direction of the Mathew's house.

"My place," he says. "Just for a little while. I ain't quite ready to let go of you yet."

Pauline nods. She slides over in the seat and leans against his shoulder. He pulls his arm up and around her, and she looks up at him. His jaw is set and he is staring straight ahead. Pauline knows he is terrified and thinking hard.

Ingram doesn't know how he is going to fulfill Glenda's directive to end the conflict with the River Kings. It's been years since he solved anything without hitting someone or drawing a blade. There was a time when he knew right from wrong, but he isn't sure if he remembers anymore.

_You say that I'm the boy who can make it all come true_

_Well, I'm telling you that I don't know if I know what to do_


	23. The Return of the Grievous Angels

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

"The Return of the Grievous Angel" is a song by Gram Parsons, who was born Ingram Connor III. So now you know where I got that name. Ingram's full name is really more a nod to Steve Earle and his influences (one of whom was Gram Parsons). I'll never find a way to use "John Walker Blues" in an Outsiders story though.

Twenty-Three- The Return of the Grievous Angel(s)

_And I remembered something you told me once_

_And I'll be damned if it did not come true_

Sodapop Curtis has an endless litany of questions for Ingram. Mr. Ellis had warned Ingram about that. It is Ellis' impression that Soda likes the sound of his own voice more than anything, but Ingram thinks differently. Soda listens to everything Ingram says, and he remembers what he's been told. Since their initial meeting, Soda has developed a comfort level with telling Ingram about Sandy and asking him about girls. Today, however, his attention is on his missing younger brother.

"I can't hardly stand it," he tells Ingram. "And I know Dallas knows. I could pound him. Man, there's nothing I'd like more than to pound it out of him."

"Then why don't you?"

Soda looks sheepish. "I think he could whip me, truth told. He's little but he's mean as hell. Plus, we need him for the rumble. He's already nursing some cracked ribs from pissing off Tim."

Ingram smirks and shakes his head. He hums along to Patsy Cline on the radio as he lies down next to a rusty Falcon and pushes himself underneath.

"I wrote Ponyboy a letter, and gave it to Dally- that's how I know he knows where they are. He said he'd take it before he thought to tell me no. Shit, I outfoxed Dallas Winston. If nothing else, that about made my day. Got Two-Bit calmed down some, too. Dally told him they were in Mexico and Two-Bit was all ready to go looking for them. Say, what is it with you and Two-Bit anyway?"

Ingram smiles up at the oil pan. He wonders what Sodapop has heard.

"He thinks I'm banging his sister."

"Are you?"

"What if I am? We don't need _her_ for the rumble. Two-Bit don't hardly seem like the pinnacle of gentlemanly behavior himself."

Soda giggles. He peeks down through a gap in the engine at Ingram. "So…are you?"

"You know, this is where the trouble gets started, son. You want to know about how to treat girls? Lesson one is don't talk about them with other guys."

"I ain't asking if she was any good…"

"She's a nice girl and I…"

"Pauline? Pauline scares the hell out of me. She's like the girl Evie only wishes she could be, and Evie's got Steve by the balls. The only girl who scares me more is Dally's girl, Sylvia. Well, I guess she ain't his girl at the moment. That changes from day to day, hour to hour."

Ingram unscrews the cap on the bottom of the oil pan and pulls his hand back quickly before the oil begins to flow. He puts the cap in his pocket, whistles a few more bars of Patsy, and then turns his attention back to Sodapop.

"So what's so scary about Pauline?"

"You going to get in trouble for asking?" Soda calls out. He has moved across the garage to look for a filter.

"Probably. I'll say I heard it from Tim."

"Well, that's Scary Thing Number One," Soda says. "Dang, I'd be scared to date Tim Shepard."

"Something you've put a lot of thought to?"

"Oh, yeah, that's the stuff dreams are made of, buddy. No, I just mean he don't have the best reputation with girls."

Ingram frowns. "Like how? He knock 'em around?"

"No, nothing like that. More like he just don't give a damn. Two-times 'em, talks all rough to 'em- of course Paulie can handle that just fine. She can give it right back, too. Nah, rumor with Tim and Paulie is he just used her to get a passing grade on a class that was keeping him from graduating. She wrote him a paper or something, and then he ditched her. And that's Tim all over with girls."

"Tim don't seem like the type who'd be overly worried about whether he'd graduate or not."

Soda laughs. "I think it was a probation condition. Either finish up in Will Rogers or finish up in the reformatory. Whatever the deal- he needed Paulie for something, and once he got it he was gone."

"He don't seem like he's too gone far. You still ain't said what's so scary about Pauline."

"I can't rightly say, I guess." Soda stops moving for a flickering instant and thinks on it. "We known each other since we were kids. She's just always angry. Both of them are, I guess. Two-Bit- wouldn't know it to look at him, but he's the angriest guy ever."

"No, I can see it," Ingram screws the cap back on the oil pan. He pushes himself out from under the car and stands up, looking around for the filter he forgot to bring with him. He finds it sitting next to the front driver's side tire.

"I guess the thing with Paulie is she's like my brother Ponyboy. God, he's so smart. He don't belong here. Not with us, not on this side of town. He's just a kid, but he belongs in a university classroom somewhere. And the older he gets, the more he's just spinning his tires. There's nothing for him here, and I can just see him getting frustrated. I can see it on his face. He ain't going ever be happy taking cars apart like me, but no one's offering him anything better. That's how it is with Pauline. She looks around her and sees housewives and waitresses, and there she is with that camera. You ever seen her pictures?"

"I have."

"Yeah, she's like some serious artist." Soda pauses to breath and then to laugh. "Man, she drives Steve nuts. She was on some kick about pin-up girls and women's liberation and she just about had Evie turned against Steve. Between you and me, I didn't get it, but I thought it was funny as hell. I can't pull anything over on Steve, barely can on Dally. Pauline damned-near started a revolution."

Ingram pauses as he opens the box holding the oil filter to look up at the calendar hanging in the shop. It is a drawing, not a photograph. The girl in it is smiling a coy smile and is about to burst out of her blouse. Ingram had thought she was pretty, but now he is wary of her presence watching over them.

"Pin-ups, you say? I'll have to ask her. I probably saw every one there ever was in the pen. I'm sort of an expert myself."

"Wear armor," Soda says, passing behind him. Ingram hadn't even realized he was there. Some days Soda moves so fast, watching him move is like trying to follow a dragonfly.

The clock strikes three. Ingram leans under the hood of the Falcon to replace the filter. More than anything he is curious as to how this afternoon is going to go. He had made a point of telling Pauline the particulars of the new arrangement while he had her pinned on her back in his bed. She had been smiling up at him, but her smile faded to suspicion as he laid out the details.

"Your school gets out at three? You got to be at the DX by three-fifteen, baby. Any longer than that I'm going to worry. If I have to come looking for you, and I lose my job over it, I'll get sent back. You get that?"

"I get that it's entirely up to you to go looking for me or not. Human beings and free will and all."

"Damnit, baby," he'd said, then taken a deep breath and intertwined his fingers with hers. He'd kissed her, pushed harder against her, and looked to see if she was smiling again. Or at least distracted.

Pauline was ready with her next question. "So I just went from being held captive by my mom to being held captive by you?"

"You don't like being my captive better?"

"Why do I have to be anybody's captive? Why can't y'all just trust me to look out for myself?"

"It ain't you that I don't trust…"

"Jesus, that sounds just like my mom. My mom has said those very words." She starts to squirm.

"Would you…just hear me out, darlin'. I promise I'll say plenty of things to you your mama would never say…but just listen for a blessed minute. Vaughan's seen you now. I thought he made one hell of an impression, too. Do you not get what kind of guys these are?"

And she said she did. She was pouty after that, though, and it took a lot of kissing to bring her back out of it. By the time Ingram had cajoled her back into a playful mood, Duane was bouncing through the front door and asking if "the little girl" would like some milk and cookies. Ingram was left hoping that Pauline's own conscience would inspire her to show.

When she does show, she is probably on time, but Ingram isn't sure because she doesn't stop in the back to tell him she's there. He is about to throw an oil can across the room and go hunt for his car keys when the phone rings and he hears her voice answering it out by the register.

Shaking his head, he goes up front to give her a piece of his mind or- more likely in his relief- a slap on the ass. She is perched up on the stool behind the counter, making change for Kathy's Pepsi and cradling the phone against her shoulder.

Ingram starts to tap on his wrist to remind her of their agreement, but stops when he sees her eyes go wide. She hops down from the stool and leans across the counter so that Kathy can hear whoever is on the other line as well.

"Yeah? Holy shit- are they okay? Well, which ones? Where the hell were they?"

Kathy sees Ingram standing there before Pauline does. She pulls away from the phone.

"Go get Soda," she tells him.

Before Ingram can move, Pauline says, "okay, I'll tell him" and puts the phone down.

She ducks around Ingram like he's a part of the architecture and calls into the back: "Soda! Sodapop, come 'ere! Darry called- they found Ponyboy. All of them. They're all on their way home!"

Too excited to wait for him to come to her, Pauline darts through the shop door with Kathy right behind her. They all collide just inside the shop.

"What?" Is all Soda can manage to say.

"That was Darry on the phone. He just got a call from the cops. They found Pony and Johnny, something about a fire. Idiot Dally was with them, too," Pauline is almost out of breath.

"I knew it…what fire? Where are they?"

"On their way to the hospital. Darry doesn't know any more than that. The cops said two of them were hurt real bad, but they didn't know who. Darry's on his way to the hospital."

Soda stands there for a moment blinking. It's as still as Ingram has ever seen him. He wrings his hands and looks from Pauline to Ingram.

"Go!" Ingram says.

"Can I? I don't even know…"

"Take my car, buddy," Steve has arrived with the rest of the after-school crowd. He and Two-Bit are standing at the open shop door, listening in. Steve tosses his keys at Soda.

"Is that okay? I just started with the plugs on that-"

"Go," Ingram says again. He gestures at the girls and Steve and Two-Bit. "Between the five of us, we'll handle spark plugs. Just go."

"And call us," Two-Bit says.

Soda nods at Ingram and breaks into a hesitant grin. He races towards Steve's car, clapping Steve on the back as he rushes by. The car peels out in to the street, and they are all left with an electric, jittery silence.

Two-Bit and Steve come towards the others, and Two-Bit asks Pauline, "What did Darry say, Paulie? Are they hurt real bad?"

"Dally's going to hurt a lot worse when I get a hold of him," Steve grumbles.

"Yeah, no shit. Save me a piece of that action," Two-Bit says. He looks back to his sister again.

"He didn't know too much," she tells them. "Just what I said to Soda, and Darry was just as giddy, so he wasn't even speaking in complete sentences. They found all three of them out by some place called Windrixville…? Where the hell is that?"

"Straight north. Between Bartlesville and the state line," Ingram says. It's on a rail line.

Pauline nods and continues, "There was a fire, something about little kids…they saved some little kids? They all got hurt some, and they're bringing them down here to the hospital, but Darry didn't know who was hurt or how bad. They're on their way, though. They should be here pretty quick. It took them a while to figure out to call Darry, so they've already been on the road for a while."

There is another moment of silence, and then Steve lets out a whoop. He propels himself off of Two-Bit's shoulders and goes bouncing across the garage. Two-Bit breaks into an enormous grin. He stumbles back and leans against the Falcon.

"Bet you're glad you didn't go to Mexico," Pauline says.

"I'm going to kill Dally," Two-Bit replies, but he's shaking his head and laughing. He reaches his arm out and pulls Kathy and Pauline on either side to squeeze them. "That's the least of the things I'm glad about. I don't think I've ever been so happy to have a reason to kill Dallas Winston."

_Twenty thousand roads I went down, down, down_

_And they all led me straight back home to you_


	24. Buckle Up

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and Two-Bit's zany family. "Buckle Up" is a song by Blondie.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my mother, the queen of trapping me in a moving car whenever she wanted to have a serious discussion about about anything.

Twenty-Four- Buckle Up

_We're too close_

_Too close for comfort now _

Two-Bit is insufferable that evening. When he announces to Ingram that he's taking Pauline home with him because he'll go nuts waiting around the house by himself for Soda to call, Pauline almost believes it. She throws up her hands and shrugs at Ingram, who shrugs back and winks at her when Two-Bit won't leave them alone to kiss. He forgets Kathy in his energized state, but returns for her five minutes later to find that she has already called Marty.

He is so wound up that he and Pauline actually dedicate some time to cleaning up around the house. In the end, they undo most of their handiwork playing chase and throwing things at one another. Two-Bit lets Pauline have a couple of beers and she makes him pancakes and eggs for dinner. Exhausted and a little buzzed, they end up sitting on the floor beneath the phone, waiting.

Two-Bit rockets to his feet and knocks it off the hook when it finally does ring. It's Steve. Pauline watches Two-Bit's face go from light to dark. He doesn't speak immediately when he hangs up. Pauline knows she isn't going to like what he tells her.

"Pony's on his way home with Darry and Soda. He's dog-tired, though. I ain't going to go over there tonight. Dal's still in the hospital, but there's plenty of him left for me to beat back to hell."

He falls silent, and Pauline waits again.

Two-Bit cringes when he says the words: "Johnny's hurt real bad. Real bad. Broke his back, burned real bad. They don't know…they don't know anything yet."

Pauline can see by the look in his eyes, though, that Two-Bit expects the worst. That isn't like him- usually that's her job- and it scares her to see him like that.

He tells her he's going to bed. Looking deflated, he takes a final swallow of his beer and gives her a weak punch in the arm as he heads back to his room.

Pauline sits down on the sofa and looks around the living room that they had cleaned and then destroyed. She picks up a couple of pillows that lay within her reach, but doesn't have the energy to do much else. She falls asleep on the sofa and barely remembers her mother shaking her half-awake and shoving her towards her own room.

* * *

Pauline's head is hazy in the morning. She is sort of happy when she doesn't beat Two-Bit to the shower, guaranteeing that hers will be lukewarm. The water wakes her up a little. When she's done and dressed, she stops in front of the mirror and debates pulling her hair up. She decides to leave it hanging in hopes it will disguise her sleepy, hung-over eyes.

Two-Bit is hovering in the living room. He is just as wired as the night before, but now it's more nervous energy than exhilaration.

"You want to come with me to see Johnny?" He asks her.

"Will you take me to see Dad?"

Two-Bit scowls. "Forget it. I'll just go with Ponyboy."

He starts out the door, and she thinks the conversation is over, but he turns back to her once again.

"God, you're so dumb. You know that, Pauline? For all you know about Dad, and you still go puppy-dogging after him, thinking one of these times he'll give in and start to give a damn about you. And then, there's you and that Walker guy. You don't know a damned thing about him."

"I never asked him to come over here."

"I didn't hear you asking him to leave. Honest to Christ, Paulie, where do you think that's going to end up? Those River King guys are just straight-up trash. They're mean, Paulie. They ain't like us. He killed someone. You know that, right?"

"He didn't kill anyone."

"He tell you that?"

Pauline nods. She adds, "And Johnny killed someone for real. He's still Johnny, ain't he?"

"You leave Johnny out of this," Two-Bit's eyes flare. "Don't even think about comparing Johnny to that son of a bitch. He told you he never killed anybody? Is that all it took to get in your pants? You got even lower standards than I thought, kid, if that's the bar you set for yourself."

"Why don't you go to hell, Two-Bit? You ain't any better. You got a girl like Kathy tripping all over herself wanting to be with you, and can't see the forest for the legion of bottle-blond tramps you've put between you and her."

Two-Bit stands silent. Pauline can see his wrist twitching. He stares at her for a long minute, and then says, "Y'all better get to school. Maybe you can graduate before you get yourself knocked up."

"What's your excuse? Last I checked you hadn't graduated and you ain't knocked up."

"Get your ass to school," he says and jerks the screen door open. Once on the porch, he slams it closed again and hurries down the walk. Pauline hears voices. She stands up to look out the door. Two-Bit and Steve Randle are walking towards the Curtis house. Steve was most likely waiting on the porch the whole time. She wonders how much of Two-Bit's tirade was for Steve's benefit.

Pauline turns away from the door and lets out a small squeak in surprise. Her mother- who she had forgotten was even at home- is standing in the doorway to the kitchen in her plaid bathrobe.

Pauline blinks, speechless, and clueless as to how long Glenda has been standing there.

"You want to go see him?" Glenda asks her.

Pauline is sure there must be a catch, but she nods anyway.

"Let me get dressed. I'll take you. Only place I can yell at you anyhow without you running off is a locked, moving car."

Pauline smiles. There _is_ a catch. She nods again to her mother.

"Ten minutes," Glenda says. She looks up into her disheveled bangs and changes her mind. "Fifteen. Stick around."

* * *

Trapping her children inside a moving vehicle is Glenda Mathews' favorite strategy for having all of those weighty, uncomfortable conversations: _did you knock up this girl? Are you knocked up? Do you know what that means? Who got whom drunk?_ To date, neither kid has attempted to jump.

As is her habit, she waits until they are off of their own street and rolling on a busier avenue to start in: "So, you went through an awful lot of trouble to hide this boy from me, Pauline. Makes me think maybe there's some truth to what Two-Bit was saying back there."

Pauline sighs. It's barely eight o'clock and she's already tired of answering this question. "He didn't kill anybody. He took the rap for some other guys. That's what he told me."

"Do you believe him? You know him well enough to believe him?"

Pauline nods. "He just don't seem like the type who would do it."

"But neither does Johnny Cade. You're right about that."

"This was different. Johnny did it in self-defense. What Ingram did, or what they sent him down for, was cold-blooded. He ain't a cold-blooded kind of guy."

"So, if he got sent down, how old does that make him?"

"He's twenty-two."

"And why do you think he's running around with a seventeen year old girl?"

"He's a little uneasy about that himself."

"Not that uneasy, if I'm to believe what your brother said."

Pauline feels her cheeks grow hot. She doesn't have a response for that.

Glenda's next remark surprises Pauline: "He seems like a nice enough boy."

"But?"

"But I'm not real happy with the little conundrum he's got me caught up in."

"You?" Pauline furrows her brow and looks at her mother.

Glenda continues staring straight ahead. She hates driving, always has. There seem to be more cars in Tulsa every day, and every single one of them makes her nervous. The days her children got their licenses were two of the happiest of her life. The only reason she's not letting Pauline drive now is that she expects Pauline's head is running in a thousand other directions.

"Yes, me," Glenda tells her. "He took the parenting out of my hands. He's right- whatever this thing is with his old gang, he's better equipped to protect you from them than I am, but it pisses me off. I'd rather you weren't a part of it at all. And I was trying to punish you, you will recall."

"And I felt punished," Pauline reassures her, restraining a smile.

Glenda rolls her eyes and grins. "The hell you did. You're probably disappointed that it didn't go on long enough for you to think of some way around it yourself."

She pauses, looking thoughtful, and then asks, "That isn't what this whole thing with Ingram is all about, is it?"

"What whole thing?"

"Are you getting yourself involved with this boy because it creates a situation? Because it gets you out from under me?"

Pauline giggles. "You're asking if I'm using him?"

"Yes, I am. Are you using him?"

"No! I like him."

"What do you like about him? Don't think about it- just straight from your gut. What do you like?"

Her gut's first response is that Ingram can kiss like a sonofabitch. There is nothing hesitant about the way he touches her and no disguising that he enjoys doing it. Pauline goes with her gut's second choice:

"He makes me laugh."

"Well, then God have mercy on you," Glenda grumbles. She seems to remember a young man who could make her laugh once upon a time. She'll be visiting him in his hospital room in short order.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pauline asks, although she can guess. In spite of what her mother said, she thinks on it for a minute and then clarifies. "He's happy, Mama. He ain't like Two-Bit, where he's always joking around trying to hide something. Ingram's actually happy. You kind of can't help but be happy when you're with him."

_Good answer_, Glenda thinks. She wonders if Pauline sees the same attributes in herself that she describes in her brother. She knows Ingram sees it. She wonders if there's anything he can do about it.

_Buckle up your seat belt, baby_

_It's going to be a bumpy ride_


	25. Don't Blame Your Daughter

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. The Cardigans own "Don't Blame Your Daughter".

Twenty-Five- Don't Blame Your Daughter

_Don't blame your daughter, that's just sentimental_

_And don't blame your mom for all that you've done wrong_

Pauline stands still just outside the doorway until her mother breaks her trance with a hand on her shoulder. Glenda thinks Pauline is frightened or overwhelmed. Really, Pauline is committing the scene to memory. The doorway frames the picture of Paul Mathews in his hospital bed. There are no flowers or magazines, just an i.v. drip running to his arm. The fluid in it is clear. Pauline can only guess at what it is- antibiotics, morphine, something to hydrate him?

Paul opens his eyes. He sees Glenda first and he smiles. He is happy to see her- Pauline can tell by his eyes. She's known him her whole life, and Pauline has never known a time when her mother couldn't put that smile on her father's face, and she's never known a time when she and Two-Bit could. Paul has never learned that he'll never see that look returned from their mother as long as he remains uninterested in the kids.

"Hey, Glen, couldn't stay away, could you?" His voice is raspy and weak. Now Pauline is scared. She hangs in the doorway and lets her mother take the reins.

"Ah, goddamnit, Paul," is all Glenda says. She straightens the sheet that is laid over him, but it is more of a compulsion than any sign of caring. "Have you talked with your doctor or just run your damned mouth at him?"

Paul wrinkles his nose. "Dr. Archuleta, you mean? That wetback? Where'd he learn to be a doctor, you think?"

"Does it matter? He's more of a doctor than you'll ever be. He's the man with the morphine, so I suggest you mind your manners with him."

"That's your suggestion, is it? I'll make a note of that."

Their bickering relaxes Pauline a little. She can picture them now in the kitchen at home, sniping back and forth. She leans against the doorframe, but it squeaks when she does and her father looks up.

"You brought her here? What'd you bring her for, Glen?" He asks her mother. When he doesn't get any reply beyond more blanket-straightening and pillow-fluffing, he says to Pauline, "Well, what do you know, Pop Tart? I suspect I owe you an apology."

Glenda snorts. "Pull up a chair, Pauline. For all he's got to apologize for, you're going to be here a while."

Paul smirks at his wife. "Paulie and I talk, you know, Glen. I think maybe she won't mind if I only start with my most recent missteps. Come 'ere, Paulie."

Pauline takes a tentative step forward. This is new territory, the idea of her father apologizing for anything. He's never been the kind to beat his wife or terrorize his kids; he's always just taken their money and disappeared, and for that he declares himself to be fairly harmless. He has never, ever apologized to Pauline for anything.

She sits on the edge of the bed, frowning down at the blanket. Part of her is preparing for this to be like one of Two-Bit's jokes. It will start out as a serious story and then go on and on- sucking her in- and just when she's good and attached to it, he'll nail her with the punch line.

"I imagine I scared you pretty good the other day," Paul says.

Pauline shrugs. He scared the living hell out of her. The whole scene was a whirlwind. The paramedics flew in, popping the caps off of syringes as they moved. They spoke to each other in a coded language, mostly in numbers- heart rate, pulse, oxygen level. She overheard their readings, but had no idea whether they were good or bad. They worked without emotion, and she couldn't read the results on their faces either.

Even more frightening was the cop. Pauline had never had a cop be nice to her before. The ones she'd encountered to that point were there to accuse her of something: loitering, holding, truancy. This one called her "sweetheart" and told her to run along now and find her mama.

Paul continues, "Well, I'm sorry for that, Pop Tart. That's why you Ma don't want you coming around. Those things happen, and you don't need to see them. You got to listen to your Ma, Pauline."

Pauline raises her eyes, unable to hide her disbelief. _What? These things happen? Happen to whom?_ There is no intention, from what she's hearing, to attempt to keep them from happening again. He's warning her to stay away so that he can keep right on keeping on.

Pauline looks at her mother, who has perched on the granite window sill and is looking out over the gray city. She wonders if Glenda knew where this was headed and brought her here on purpose to prove a point- the same point Glenda has been trying to make for years. _He's not going to stop, there's nothing you can do, you need to stop caring and let him go._

She sniffs and scratches her nose with the back of her hand. Her father mistakes this for Pauline crying and tries to take her hand in his. She isn't crying, though- not yet.

She looks back at her father and withdraws her hand.

"That your suggestion?" She asks and stands up. "I'll make a note of that."

Pauline turns and walks out of the room before she starts to cry in front of him. When her mother calls, "Pauline, where are you-?" she lies and shouts back that she's going to see Johnny Cade.

Instead, she hurries down the hall and into the stairwell. She descends half a flight, and then sits down and allows herself to cry.

Just as she is really starting to sob, the door to the stairwell opens behind her. Pauline sucks back her tears and ducks her head, but doesn't stand up. Footsteps come down towards her, but don't pass. They stop behind her and a boot pokes her in the arm.

"What you doing? Ah, shit, are you crying again?" It's Tim's voice.

Pauline sniffles and dodges the question. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to see Dally, razz him about the rumble. It's breaking his cold, black, little heart that he can't be there."

"What are you doing in the stairwell?"

"There was a cop in the elevator."

Pauline looks up at Tim and manages a weak smile. He makes no move to sit down next to her, but he doesn't leave either. He leans back against the railing and half-smiles back.

"So, you ain't here to see Dally, I'll bet. You seen the other one?"

She shakes her head. "My dad. I should go see Johnny."

"You won't get in. He's in isolation or something. Infections, I guess."

Pauline nods.

"How's your old man?"

Pauline shrugs and shakes her head.

"So, same as he ever was? You want to get out of here, kid? I hate hospitals."

"I came with my mom. She'll string me up."

Tim grins at that. "When did that ever stop you? Come on, I'll drive you to school. She'll think I'm some kind of Boy Scout."

"I don't want to go to school."

"Where else you going to go?" Tim asks, then give her a knowing wink. "Walker's at work. You going to hang out with me?"

Pauline rolls her eyes. "Christ, I'll just go to school. Do I look all right?"

"For a girl who's been bawling like a baby. Yeah, you look okay."

"You're such an asshole, Tim."

"Is that how it's going to be? And I was even going to let you smoke up in my car. Fine, walk your pretty little ass to school then." He starts down the stairs without her, but turns back to yank her along with him. He starts to sing "Good Morning Little School Girl" and his voice echoes in the stairwell. Pauline follows him, wiping her eyes.

"Can't sing like Walker, can I?" He calls back over his shoulder to her.

"Nope. No, you can't."

_Read me your tombstone, tell me you're sorry_

_Fax me your will, you owe something still_


	26. Rumble Doll

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Rumble Doll" is a Patti Scailfa song, the most perfect greaser girl song ever.

It's Good Fic Day, so I spellchecked. You should, too.

_Though my party dress is torn_

_I still walk and talk and crawl_

_I've got no one on my arm_

_Well, I am just a rumble doll_

**Twenty-Six- Rumble Doll**

Steve jumps the two steps that lead down into the DX garage from the front.

"You ever notice how girls get all bitchy right before a rumble?" He calls to Ingram, who is elbow-deep under the hood of Two-Bit's Plymouth.

"I don't know- can they hear me answering you?" Ingram jerks his head in the direction of the door. He knows Pauline is out there, and Evie Reynolds, most likely Kathy, too.

From behind the wheel of the Plymouth, he hears Two-Bit mumble, "Good call."

Steve curses under his breath. Soda has gone home early to check on Ponyboy, and Steve misses having him around. In his unattached status, Soda is happy and willing to talk about girls. Without one in particular whose honor he feels the need to respect, he and Steve have been having all kinds of wonderful conversations.

Steve likes Ingram just fine, but he's bull goose loony- in Steve's opinion- for taking any kind of interest in Pauline Mathews. Having her come in to run the register after school is one thing, but he has to question Ingram's judgment with regards to the rest of it.

"Well, shall I shut the door or turn up the radio?" He snarls. "This here is a serious question."

Ingram peeks out from under the hood at Two-Bit. For once, Two-Bit grins back at him.

"Your funeral, fucker," Two-Bit says to Steve.

It occurs to Ingram that Pauline hasn't said word one about the impending rumble. She has to know about it. Steve and Two-Bit have been talking about nothing else. It must be causing an awful stir at school. Ingram smiles to himself. He figures it must be a sign of maturity that some days he catches himself thinking how glad he is to not be a teacher.

Ingram leans back under the hood of the Plymouth. He feels safe under there. Without looking in the direction of the door, he calls out, "Pauline, come 'ere a minute, baby."

Steve starts to panic. "Aw, shit. No way, buddy. You're out of your mind!"

Pauline appears at the top of the steps. To Ingram's amusement, and Steve and Two-Bit's chagrin, Kathy and Evie are right there with her.

"What?"

"Steve here's got a question for y'all."

"I will kill you next chance I get," Steve whispers to Ingram.

Pauline knows something is up. She leans against the door frame and folds her arms across her chest.

"Stevie has a question for me? This ought to be priceless. Shoot, Randle."

Steve looks at Ingram in a panic. He needs to either reword his question or think of different one fast.

Two-Bit to the rescue: "Steve wants to know why girls don't like rumbles."

"Well, obviously because we're not invited," Kathy speaks before Pauline can. Her sarcasm is impossible to miss. Two-Bit likes this girl more every day.

"I'd guess there's probably some truth in that," Two-Bit replies. "It's like anything else we do when you're not around. You want to know what we're doing, how much we're drinking while we do it, and what we're talking about- namely if we're talking about you all."

"And if we are talking about you, y'all are pissed," Steve adds. "And if we're not, y'all are still pissed."

"And they're not talking about us," Pauline says to Evie. "Shit, I been in that Curtis house. Nine times out of nine, they're all talking about baseball. Y'all are the most boring street gang on earth. You know that, right?"

"Keep telling yourself that," Steve says and throw a mock punch at Two-Bit.

Evie squeezes past Pauline and pulls herself up to sit on one of the work tables. "I don't like rumbles because the risks outweigh the benefits."

"What the-?" Steve shakes his head at her. She has been spending way too much time with Pauline and Kathy.

Kathy nods. "That's true. Shit, you think this is going to end the whole beef with the Socs? You all are stoned. My brothers have been fighting with Socs, and you all, and the River Kings, and amongst themselves since they were old enough to stand up. I ain't seen any sweeping social change occurring across the land thanks to them."

"Well, your brothers are a bunch of Nazis," Steve tells her. "I have to say I'm glad we haven't witnessed any of their kind of social change."

"Point taken," Kathy says and shrugs. "Still, Evie's right. Everybody gets beat up and nothing comes of it. That's why I hate rumbles."

Ingram slams the hood shut and crosses the shop to get a clean rag. He swats at Pauline with it on his way back to the car.

"What about you, little girl?" He asks. "I know you got an opinion. You got one about everything else."

Pauline frowns as she formulates her thoughts. "I read something once about how boys use fighting as a way of showing affection because it's not socially acceptable for them to be all cuddly after a certain age."

"Ain't I cuddly?" Ingram grins at her.

"With each other. Fighting is a socially acceptable way for guys to by physically affectionate with each other."

"So I fight with Socs because I really want to be cuddling with them?" Steve is offended. " I'd ask what you been smoking, Mathews, but I already know."

"That's what I read."

"Well, what you read is bullshit."

"Nah, I can see that," Two-Bit says, to the surprise of everyone. "Not with a rumble, though. Like when we're wrestling around on the floor, yeah. That's all in fun, but a rumble ain't for fun. So, no dice, Paulie. Let's hear your next bullshit theory."

Ingram shakes his head. "I don't want to hear no b.s theories that you read. I asked you what you thought."

"Same as Kathy. No return on the investment. And the thing about us being left out, except it's not so much us being left out. We're not left out, really, but we're relegated to being props. We get shelved until after the rumble when y'all expect to come back and fuck us to burn off your post-fight adrenaline."

"Whoa!" Steve and Ingram say in unison.

Ingram quickly says, "I have no such expectations." He had hoped to see her after the rumble, but he feels he needs to say it to appease Two-Bit.

Pauline feels no need to appease her brother, though.

"The hell you say," she says to Ingram. "You asked how I feel. I'm telling you. You know damned good and well who I was going with before you came along, so you know damned well that I got experience with guys and rumbles and guys after rumbles."

"Oh yuck," Two-Bit mutters.

Ingram leans back against the side of the car, arms crossed, obviously uncomfortable.

"All right. I believe you," he says, hoping to prevent her from going into any more detail.

"Yeah, well, it feels like…"

Steve says, "I don't want to know what it feels like…"

"Dumbass," Pauline says. "Not that. I mean, it feels like I'm just a thing. Like it's my purpose to be there, and I don't have a say in it."

"You always have a say in it," Ingram protests.

Pauline ignores him. "It's like that stupid song…that fucking Elvis song."

Two-Bit snorts at her blasphemy towards Elvis.

"That 'Good Luck Charm' song," she continues. "I hate that song. I'm not a good luck charm or a thing like a penny or a rabbit's foot. That song is just gross."

"I like that song," Steve says.

"Hate that song!" Kathy and Evie shout at him, and he jumps away from them pretending to fend off an attack.

Ingram continues to watch Pauline. He's pretty sure he isn't going to be able to get "Good Luck Charm" out of his head for the rest of the day. He's probably going to get busted singing it. He has a couple more questions he'd like to ask her, but not that he wants to ask with Two-Bit standing there.

Instead, he asks, "so what do y'all plan to do during the rumble?"

Pauline laughs. "Not a damned thing. I'm still grounded, remember, so I'll probably be sitting on my ass at home waiting for the sound of sirens."

"Which means I'll probably be sitting at your house with you," Kathy chips in.

"I have to babysit," Evie tells Steve, when he looks to her.

Pauline looks thoughtful for a second and then says to Kathy, "Maybe we should make a grand escape and go hang out with the guys who aren't rumbling."

"Except that would be my brothers."

"Your brother's kind of cute- for a Nazi." Pauline looks at Ingram out of the corner of her eye to see if he's still tuned in. He is, and he's smiling at her. He's confident that she isn't going to sneak off to party with the Tiber Street crew while he's at the rumble with the Socs. She might have pulled that with Tim Shepard, but not with him.

Either Two-Bit isn't as confident or he just feels a brotherly need to boss Pauline around.

"Don't even think about it. Either of you. There's going to be panic in the streets tonight. Y'all can't be wandering around looking for a party."

Pauline flips him off. "Get your question answered, Stevie? 'Cause there's someone up here who needs a fill."

"All that and more," Steve grumbles, bounding past her up the stairs. He reaches to mess Evie's hair on his way by, but she ducks out of his reach.

Pauline opens her hands to Ingram and Two-Bit, but they have nothing else to say. She and Kathy retreat to the front of the shop with Evie right behind them.

"I got to hand it to you, Walker," Two-Bit says. "Y'all are either really brave or really stupid."

Ingram shrugs. "My granddaddy used to tell me they was sometimes one in the same."

He pushes himself away from the Plymouth and heads to the back of the shop, singing "Good Luck Charm" to himself and maybe just a little to bother Two-Bit.

The customer influx slows as closing time draws near. When Ingram comes up front to lock the doors, Kathy, Evie, and Pauline are still going back and forth about the rumble. Pauline is talking about something she read about weapons being the first human outlet for the artistic impulse.

Ingram shakes his head, although the idea calls Two-Bit's beloved, fancy switchblade to mind and the amount of work that someone put in to making it.

"Did I create a monster?" He asks.

Kathy grins at him. "She's always been a monster."

"But I unleashed it, huh?"

"You never had me on any leash," Pauline says.

Ingram drags his arm around her neck as he walks by. He then shoos the other two towards the back. Two-Bit is going to have to take Kathy home, which means he has Pauline to himself for maybe an hour before she needs to be back at her house.

He locks the register, shuts off the lights, and does about a million other piddly things all around where she is sitting, but doesn't say a word.

"What?" She says, finally.

"What?" He replies, fighting back a smile.

"You don't take this very seriously."

"I take you very seriously," he says, turning her around on her chair to face him. "Can I explain something to you?"

Pauline rolls her eyes. "Oh, you're going to explain it all to me, are you?"

"Damnit, you're a mouthy little thing. Come on outside. I need a cigarette." What he needs is to get out of Two-Bit's sight and earshot. A cigarette is the most believable excuse, though.

She follows him through the door. Once outside, Ingram pulls her by the arm around to where his car is parked. He pushes her back against the car door and kisses her.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He asks, pulling back. He lips glide up her neck as he speaks, which tickles her and makes her squirm.

He whispers into her ear, "Come on, I want to tell you a secret…can I tell you a secret?"

Pauline giggles. "God, what already?"

"Promise you won't tell no one? Not even your little girlfriends? I never even told Duane. Promise?"

"What?" She says, more softly. He pauses to kiss her again and she kisses him back, touching her tongue to his lips.

Ingram rubs his nose against hers and says, "I don't really like rumbles much."

"That's it? That's your big secret?"

"Yeah, and you can't tell no one. I never liked 'em. Too noisy, and then you got to do laundry afterward. That's a damned-sure sign I'm getting too old for fighting, ain't it? When all I can think about it having to wash my clothes afterwards?"

Pauline laughs.

Ingram asks her, "Can I come by and see you afterwards? If I promise it ain't all about post-rumble aggression or whatever the hell…?"

"Adrenaline? Yeah, unless you think I'm going to wash your clothes."

"Darlin', I worked in a prison laundry. Can't nobody wash clothes like I can. I'll wash my own clothes."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she says and plucks at his t-shirt. "You going to take me home?"

"After a while," he says. "Rumble ain't till seven. You want to ride around for a while, Good Luck Charm?"

Pauline nods. She starts around the back of the car, and when he starts around the front to open the door for her, she races him to it.

"Fine then, you damned feminist. Open your own door."

Pauline meets him in the center of the front seat when he gets in. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him hard, making him drop his keys on the floor.

They don't drive at all, not until the church clocks begin to strike six. She knows she's going to be crucified by either her mother or Two-Bit when she gets home, but Pauline doesn't care.

She lies back with her head in his lap while he drives and watches him smoke. When he tosses the cigarette out the window and slips his free hands between the buttons on her blouse, she closes her eyes and marvels at how easy this is.

Everything always feels easy right before a rumble. She knows this feeling and knows that it's deceptive. The guys are amped and the girls have lulled themselves into the lie that everything's going to be cool. Pauline knows better than to believe that one rumble is going to make things all right. It never has before. Sometimes it makes things worse.

_Sometimes I feel like I know too much_

_And sometimes I feel like I don't know nothing at all_

_But I can still be soft to the touch_

_Well, I am just a rumble doll._


	27. Start the Violence

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders, still. "Start the Violence" is a song by the now defunct Black Halos, some of the coolest guys one could ever party with in a basement. Bless 'em.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven- Start the Violence**

_We're just trying to break through_

_But you're all so goddamn thick_

_That talking just won't do_

"Do you ever just get a feeling?"

Duane tosses his jacket over the seat of his car and slams the door shut. On the other side, Ingram is purposely looking in the other direction, trying to think of something smart to say.

"You want to talk about your feelings? Don't you want to wait till we get over there with Shepard and the rest of them?"

Duane tosses his cigarette butt at Ingram. "Not _my _feelings, dipshit. Like, a general feeling in the air or in your gut?"

"I get the feeling the weather's going to go to hell," Ingram replies. "But it might be the clouds that's telling me that."

"Christ," Duane mutters. "You are about as deep as that puddle of mud over there. Can I just start over? I have a bad feeling about this. How's that?"

"I'd have to say that's bad that you have a bad feeling."

They have started to walk across the empty lot to join the rest of the Shepard gang, who are either huddled around a fire burning in an oil barrel or playing chicken on the hood of the several abandoned cars sitting nearby. Duane claps Ingram on the back of the head for being such a pill.

"You know it, too, Johnnie Walker, or you wouldn't be acting like a smart ass."

Ingram turns his back to the wind to light a cigarette and to avoid Duane's eyes. Duane's right. Something is off, but Ingram had chalked it up to his not liking rumbles.

Ingram has never been a fan of anything that requires a large group. He doesn't like commotion. Fighting is as much an intellectual experience as a physical one for Ingram, and he's probably put more deep thought towards that than anything else. For a guy who barely passed biology and then promptly forgot most of the vocabulary he'd been made to memorize, he knows a lot about how the human body works and reacts. He can use that knowledge in a fist fight with a single opponent. A rumble is just a free-for-all. Everyone is running every which way, just blowing passed one another. It's like taking swings at ghosts.

Ingram blows smoke up at the sky and says to Duane, "Nah, it's just the weather. It's just winter coming on. My granddaddy used to say we was meant to hibernate like snakes and bears and such. We don't do it, but we still get that little tingle when winter gets to coming on."

"With all due respect to your granddad, Walker, this ain't no little tingle. This is fucked up."

They end their conversation when they reach Tim. He nods towards a case of beer on the hood of one of the cars. Duane declines, but Ingram goes off to get one for himself.

Arlen is sitting on the hood next to the beer.

"You tendin' bar?" Ingram asks him. He has probably said five words total to Arlen in the time they've known each other. Usually, Arlen has plenty to say, and Ingram doesn't feel like working to get a word in edgewise.

"Yeah, and you can have beer, beer, or beer."

"I'll have a beer. Thank you."

"You psyched, Walker?" Arlen asks just as Ingram is about to turn away.

"I suppose."

"You ain't been to one of these in a good while, have you? Since before you was locked up and all?"

Ingram shakes his head. "Used to be fights in prison. Not like this, though. Not in a while."

Arlen is impressed. "You been in big fights in the pen? Like riots? I heard there was riots down there. What's it like?"

"Ain't like this," Ingram replies. He opens his beer and walks away leaving Arlen looking disappointed and annoyed.

The Curtis gang has joined them and a few cars are beginning to arrive from Brumly. Ingram exchanges glances with Duane again. Before Duane can again register his displeasure with his feelings about the night air, Sodapop Curtis pops up at Ingram's side and says he wants him to meet his brothers. Ingram allows himself to be dragged away.

_They're just like the three bears_, Ingram thinks to himself. _There's a giant one, a medium-sized one, and a baby one._ The young one- Ponyboy- is either very sick or very shy or both. He nods and shakes Ingram's hand when Soda introduces them, but avoids eye contact.

The older one- Darry- is an impressive figure. He's nearly as big as Duane and in significantly better form.

"Soda talks about you," he says. He smiles at Ingram when he says it, so Ingram guesses that's good.

"Hey, Curtis!" Tim shouts out from by the beer.

"Which one?" Soda calls back.

Tim answers, "The big one" like it should be obvious, and Ingram's brief conversation with Darry is over.

The gang leaders meet up and Ingram goes back to stand with Duane. The Socs are arriving- drunk, weaving, and singing their own dirtied-up version of the Will Rogers fight song- and Bobby Dawson sizing them up.

"What do you think?" He asks Duane and Ingram.

"I think it's too bad they're all going to get those white pants so dirty," Duane says. "What's with the white pants?"

Ingram says, "Them are the pants you wear when you pay someone to work on your car instead of working on it yourself."

"You'd think…with all that cash…they'd get some cooler duds, some nice jeans or something." Duane is cracking wise, trying to hide his anxiety about whatever bad feeling he has.

"More money than sense," Ingram replies.

Bobby is looking back and forth between them, confused. Are these guys really so tough that they're more interested in the Soc's clothing than how many Socs there are?

"They out number us," Bobby tells them.

Duane shrugs. "They ain't going to be a problem."

As the gangs begin to fan out, facing one another, a couple of the Brumly members pass by Duane and Ingram and bump shoulders. As much as he'd like to believe that Duane is just being paranoid, Ingram is not happy when the guys from Brumly position themselves behind him. He considers stepping forward and putting a bug in Tim's ear, but he can't fathom what could be done about it now. Darry Curtis has begun the proceedings and one of the Socs has announced that he'll take him.

From the edge of the park, there are footsteps and a voice calling out, "Hold up! Don't you know a rumble ain't a rumble…"

There is a sickening smack of a fist hitting a face, and Ponyboy Curtis falls back almost into Duane's arms. As with the first crack of a ball against a ball on opening day, the crowd goes wild. Duane reaches forward and pulls the Soc over Ponyboy's fallen form. The newcomer- Dallas Winston- picks up Ponyboy before Ingram can.

A smaller Soc- in white pants no less- darts for Dally while his attention is redirected. Ingram sees him and steps in between them. The Soc skids to a stop. Ingram draws back and punches him hard in the nose. He hits the nose this time and feels the bridge collapse.

"Jesus, you ain't fucking around," he hears Dally say behind him. Before Ingram can reply, another one comes at him and he braces himself to block the hit.

It is just about then, as Ingram had predicted, that the sky opens up and the rain begins to pour down. _This is even worse_, he thinks. Now there is chaos all around, and they're sliding in the mud. The next guy who comes toward him slips and slides right into Ingram, knocking his feet out from under him. They roll in the grass but the Soc is winded so Ingram gets the upper hand pretty quickly. He straddles the guy's waist and bears down on his neck with his upper left arm. He clocks him twice to get him good and dizzy and is about to knock him cold when a blow to his side knocks him off the Soc and on to his back.

Through the rain and the shock of the pain from his broken ribs, Ingram is momentarily confused. They aren't white pants and tennis shoes backing away from him. He's sure it's jeans and boots, but maybe his attacker is just drenched in mud. He doesn't have time to ponder it. From his peripheral vision, he sees a body falling towards him, and he rolls to get out of the way.

Steve Randle lands next to Ingram with a splash.

"You all right, Walker?" He shouts, kicking up at the Soc who threw him down.

"Never better," Ingram calls back. He sucks in a painful breath and jumps to his feet. As the Soc jumps to pounce on Steve, Ingram grabs him by the collar and tosses him back towards Sodapop, who grabs him from behind.

Soda throws the Soc down and lets Steve back at him. Ingram takes a second to look around for another one to go after. Everyone is covered in mud now, and telling greaser from Soc is difficult.

Ingram curses his broken ribs. These are hardly the first he's had. Hell, Duane had treated him to a couple once when they were just horsing around down by the River. He had tossed Ingram and Ingram had landed on a rock on the river bank. Once right after he went into the pen, too- a fight had broken out in the cafeteria and someone had hit him with a chair.

It hurts to breathe deeply, and thinking about breathing slows his reaction time. Ingram decides to stand his ground and take anyone coming at him rather than go running towards another fight.

Since he is standing and looking around, he is one of the first to see the Socs start to back off. It is only one or two at first, and they are almost slinking back to their car, maybe hoping the others won't see them. When they are seen, the others begin to follow suit.

When one of the Shepard gang yells out, "Look at them dirty sons of bitches run!" the remaining Socs take it as a directive. Ingram trips one as he runs by, and he slides in the mud like a runner taking home plate. Ingram is in too much pain to be amused.

The post-rumble jubilee is nearly as chaotic as the rumble itself. Tim is cursing loudly at no one in particular and cupping his hand against his nose. Dally is dragging the youngest Curtis up out of the mud and attempting to haul him somewhere. Ingram is about to go to them and ask if the boy is hurt bad when a hand on him shoulder spins him around. It's Duane.

"Holy Toledo...you all right, son?" He asks.

Clearly, Duane is not. His shoulders are slouched and he's breathing hard- Ingram guesses from his own busted ribs. The hand he's placed on Ingram's shoulder has been stomped on. Duane's fingers and the backs of his hands are cut and bleeding.

Ingram looks up at him. It is apparent to him that what was done to Duane was not done in a skin fight.

"Shepard!" Ingram shouts over his shoulder.

Tim limps over, still muttering about his broken nose. He, too, comes to a stop when he sees Duane.

"Jesus, what'd they hit you with?"

"Piece of pipe. He dropped it once and it fell out of his fist," Duane says.

"Who? Did you see which car they got into?" Tim brightens up at the idea of having to go chase down a carload of Socs.

"Shit, man, they're right over there." Duane points across the field at the Brumly crew, who are helping themselves to the Shepard gang's beer.

Tim cusses again. He squares his shoulders and starts towards the Brumly leader.

Ingram turns back to Duane. "You're sure?"

"Hell, yes, I'm sure. I remember when I get hit with a pipe. I told you, man. I told you I didn't like them guys. How'd you make out?"

"Cracked a couple of ribs. Not sure who done it, but I'm beginning to have my suspicions. They in bed with Vaughan, you think?"

"Must be. Maybe they owe him for dope. I'm sure, though, Walker. I'm sure it was them and not the rich kids."

Ingram watches as Tim comes back towards him. He raises his arms in the air, smiling and looking satisfied. Behind him, the Brumly leader is laying into one of his own. Ingram squints but is unable to recognize whoever it was who kicked him.

"They'd better be hitting him with that pipe," Duane says to Tim.

"Sadly, no. I didn't say it was you. I just said someone saw him with a weapon. Their fearless leader didn't seem too blown away by the news."

Ingram can feel the energy beginning to drain out of him. He wants to go somewhere and sit very still a while. He'd love to have a drink, but he knows it's going to hurt to swallow for about two weeks.

When Tim walks away to check on the rest of his gang, Ingram turns to Duane and asks, "You want me to do something about it?"

"You going to kick mud at them, or what? No, man, you go catch a nap with your girl. Try to not get into with her brother. I'm going to go get cleaned up and have a couple. Shepard and them are going back to Buck's. I'll probably wind up there."

"You'd best tape that hand," Ingram tells him. "There's some in that drawer in the kitchen."

"Yeah, yeah, Ma." Duane nods. He blinks hard. Unlike Ingram, his eyes are darting and he is still jumpy. All around them, the younger greasers are celebrating. Ingram and Duane look odd and out of place standing still in the rain.

"Should've listened better back at the Pines," Ingram winks at Duane. "We are getting too old for this shit."

"God, I hate it when cops are right," Duane replies. He fishes his car keys out of his pocket, and he and Ingram go their separate ways.

_Little voices keep on calling us_

_The record states that it's time to turn it up_


	28. Johnny and I, We Got Lost Tonight

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. The chapter title comes from a song by Loney, Dear called "I Am John". There's a great live version of it on youtube. I always thought it was a great Pony-and-Johnny song, but it works for this, too.

Chapter Twenty-Eight- Johnny and I, We Got Lost Tonight

_Got a heart full of plans but nowhere to run…_

Pauline's bedroom window jerks open an inch. She hurries from her bed and helps to open it wide enough for Ingram. He pulls himself inside with some trouble.

"My mom isn't even here," she says. "You could've come to the door."

"Now you tell me," he replies. "I think I cracked a couple of ribs. Well, someone cracked them for me, and I ain't for certain but it wasn't one of them Brumly guys."

Pauline scowls. "Really? Let me see…"

"Decided to take up nursing?"

"Just you. Let me see." She steps towards him and reaches for the hem of his t-shirt.

Ingram manages a grin. "Yeah, I know how you are. Just trying to get me out of my clothes."

"Yeah, that's exactly it, Ingram," She rolls her eyes at him. "So what was the outcome?"

"Socs run off. They clocked that little guy, Ponyboy, pretty good. Damn, but he's tiny. I don't know that I'd have let him be at something like that, especially after…"

"Ah, all them Curtis' stick together," Pauline says. "He probably cried around until Darry let him. Just so long as it's nothing more than a skin fight."

"Listen to you," Ingram smirks. "That's just it. Someone worked Duane over good, and he says it was Brumly, too. When I was leaving, they was claiming they found a piece of pipe on one of them fuckers and was making a big picture show of knocking him around. I think that's all it was, though- theatre."

"Jesus, doesn't seem like hardly anybody likes you."

Ingram smiles and steps up to her. He pulls her close to him by her arms.

"I thought you did."

"I suppose I do."

"That's good enough for me, then. Your mom really ain't here? Dang, got you all alone and in no shape to do anything about it."

She stands up on her toes to kiss him.

"Shirt," she says again.

He winces as he raises his arms over his head. The bruises are obvious- even beneath the old Santa Fe Railroad lion tattooed on his ribcage- and Pauline knows there's nothing she can do about them other than offer him aspirin and alcohol. She looks over his other tattoos- all simple black lines, no doubt done in prison. She's seen the Tennessee state flag on his bicep before, and the River Kings crown on his wrist. She frowns at the name "Eileen" written in script over his heart.

"Who's that?" She asks.

Ingram smirks at what he interprets to be jealousy. "My mama. Her name was Eileen."

"Well, aint you sweet?"

"I am that. I'm dog tired, too. I don't know what y'all mean by post-rumble adrenaline. I just want to take a nap. You want to take a nap, baby?"

Pauline smiles. "Yeah, I could take a nap."

He steadies himself by keeping his hands on her shoulders as he takes off his boots. She helps him with his wet and muddy jeans. He pushes her the couple of steps back towards the bed and kisses her, but that's as far as it goes. Rather than put any weight on him, Pauline gets in first and then lets him lay down in her arms. With some trouble, they pull her blanket up, and Ingram falls asleep with her stroking his hair.

* * *

Ingram sits up straight in bed, not knowing exactly what it was that woke him. The pain from his ribs seers through him and he sucks in a hard breath, catching himself before he curses out loud.

He hears it again: a pop and an echo. It's a sound he's rarely heard since living in Tulsa, but he remembers it well from his childhood: the report of gunfire and then the echo off the mountains- his male relatives hunting or protecting their stills. Here, the sound bounces off concrete and houses, but it's still the same sound.

"Son of a bitch," he whispers. He begins to look around for his shirt and his boots. He dreads bending down to pick them up, but a panic is beginning to surge inside of him. Tim had practically had to beg those Brumly guys not to bring heaters to the rumble. Most likely they kept them in their cars, and they've been cruising around the neighborhood ever since, on that post-rumble high or whatever Pauline calls it.

Ingram has no idea where Duane is. He knows, though, that Duane is beat up and moving slow.

"What is it?" Pauline asks.

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Hear what? No…"

"Gun shots…aww, shit…" Ingram swipes up his shirt and it's like being kicked in the ribs all over again.

Pauline sits up now. "Where are you going?"

"Someone's shooting out there."

"So you want to go and find them? Get back here, Ingram."

Ingram leans back against her dresser and forces his feet into his boots. He shakes his head at her.

"I got to find Duane, baby. Those Brumly guys tonight, they was out to get us."

"And I still don't get why. What did you do to them? You were on the same side at the rumble."

"Who the hell knows? They ain't the sharpest bunch of tools. I'd prefer not to know how they think. One of them called us backstabbers the other night. Duane guesses they owe something to Vaughan."

"Jesus Christ, Ingram, you can't hardly stand straight." Pauline's voice begins to rise. "Why do you have to go out there? I'm telling you…"

"I'm telling you, baby, I got to go find him. Y'all stay inside, all right?"

Pauline stands up and moves to the window. The words tumble out her mouth: "No, how about _you_ stay inside? We been down this road once already- I ain't waiting around on you if all you're going to do is get yourself shot. It ain't going to be like waiting around for my old man to die. I will drop you like a rock before I pick up any more of that worry."

Ingram gives her that look- the one she's seen before from Kathy: _where did that come from_? He raises his hands and then lets them fall again.

Pauline stands her ground at the window. "What, are you going to push me around now?"

It sounds like a dare. If he pushes her, it will be all over. She won't stand for that. Her decision will be easy, and it will all be his fault. Ingram takes a step back towards the bedroom door instead.

"You mom still ain't home," Ingram tells her. "I'll just let myself out the front. You stay inside."

* * *

Pauline pulls on her clothes, mumbling every expletive she knows. Ingram got dressed and was out the door in nothing flat. Ingram didn't have to find a bra and button a blouse and make sure a skirt was on in the right direction. She's going to be blocks behind him.

She doesn't even know for sure why she's following him. She's afraid to give it too much thought- it might be something as stupid as that she just wants to keep yelling at him. More than anything, she just doesn't want to be still. She doesn't want to be pushed to the side, left out, and sheltered. If he'd let her, she'd stand by him. If he isn't going to let her, she wants to witness what is it that's so much more important than being with her.

Not expecting the wet street to be as cold as it is, Pauline forgoes shoes. If the trouble is at the empty lot, then she doesn't have far to go. She darts out into the chilly night, clutching a sweater to her chest rather than taking the time to button it.

She gets to the lot, but it's empty. She stops to listen for footsteps. She half-expects Ingram or spies from Brumly to drop down on her. Frustrated, she turns and looks around the lot. Over a hill and several blocks away, she sees the flashing lights. Police cars- her blood runs cold. She breaks into a run in the direction of the lights.

She slows up when she sees two figures coming towards her. They both walk heavily, their shoulders down. They aren't touching, but one is walking slightly behind the other, herding him in Pauline's direction. She begins to run again when she sees its Ingram with Two-Bit.

"Jesus, what happened?"

"Damnit, little girl!" Ingram shouts at her.

She ignores him and moves to her brother, who is standing perfectly still now that Ingram isn't moving him along. His face is ashen and his hands are shaking.

"Two-Bit?" She says. She takes a step closer and when he doesn't say anything, she cups his face in her hands and pulls it to face hers. "Two-Bit, what happened?"

He raises his eyes to meet hers, and he tries to speak, but ends up just shaking his head. She wraps her arms around him and hugs him. He melts into her arms like a child.

Pauline looks over his shoulder to Ingram. "What the hell happened?"

"Did I not tell you to stay inside?" Ingram is panicked by whatever he's just seen and furious with her for coming as close to it as she is. "Girl, did I not…?"

"Dally," Two-Bit says, and Pauline turns back to him. "They shot Dally. They just gunned him down in the street with all of us standing there begging them not to. Johnny's dead. He died, and…"

Pauline has no idea what to say. She holds him tighter and after a moment or two, he begins to sob.

"I'm sorry, Two-Bit, I'm sorry," she whispers over and over, trying to rock him back and forth.

She feels another hand on her back. Ingram squeezes her shoulder and then turns her back in the direction of the house.

"You two need to get on home," he says. "Take him home, Pauline."

"Where are you going?"

"You know where. I'll call you. It'll be all right. Just go on home now. You ain't got any shoes on."

"Where's he going?" Two-Bit asks Pauline as Ingram turns away.

"Don't worry about it," she tells him, her tone implying that he isn't worth worrying about.

"Where are you going?" Two-Bit shouts to Ingram.

Ingram stops and turns around to look at them. Two-Bit has shed his sadness for the moment and looks ready to tear Ingram apart.

"Y'all just go on home."

"Fucker, you just going to leave her like this? They were her friends, too. Where you got to be that's so important?'

Pauline tugs at Two-Bit's sleeve. "Come on, let's go. Just let it go, Two-Bit. It don't matter."

"The hell it don't. She was right. She was dead-on about what was going to happen after the rumble." He turns to Pauline and snaps, "You enjoying being right, Paulie? You said all guys want to do is show up and get fucked after a rumble, and that's exactly what you got."

Ingram knows Two-Bit is upset about his friends. He isn't going to try to explain that he and Pauline have been asleep, cuddled up like kittens, for the past two hours. Pauline can try pounding that through his head. He thinks about asking Two-Bit where his girlfriend was while he was out running Dallas Winston down, but he doesn't.

"I'll come back," he says in a weak voice. "If you want."

Two-Bit looks to Pauline. "Lucky you. He says he's coming back."

Pauline speaks the words Ingram has fought not to say. "Why don't you shut the hell up, Two-Bit? You want me to smack you stupid?"

Two-Bit mumbles something at her that Ingram can't hear and turns away. He begins to walk back towards the house without her. She watches him for a second and then turns back to Ingram.

"Go on now, darlin'," he says.

She hugs her sweater around her and stands there, shifting her feet on the cold concrete. Ingram wishes she would move- run to him, run away, something. He hates when he can't tell what her next move is going to be.

"You want me to come back?"

Pauline shrugs. "Do what you want to do. You told me to go, and I'm going."

She turns then and runs to catch up with her brother. Ingram walks backwards a few steps, lighting a cigarette and watching her scurry off into the night. Then he starts walking north. He cuts over a block to avoid the scene the cops now have taped off. He'll try home first. If Duane isn't there, he'll pick up his car, and try Buck's.

He moves quickly through the city and towards his house by the railroad tracks. He barely remembers the journey once he arrives. His mind has been racing the entire time.

Did he just get ditched? The look in her eyes said that Pauline was telling him to go to hell. _Do what he wants to do?_ This isn't what Ingram wants to be doing- coming up to his dark house to find it empty, jumping in his car, and trying to guess where Duane might be and what kind of shape he's in. From the moment he met Pauline none of these are the things he wants to be doing.

And yet, they are the things that need to be done. If she can't understand that…She'll never understand that. She's just a kid. He's known that from the start. He and Duane are brothers and they're in this together. Pauline has been a distraction since the first time she flashed him that smile and knocked him on his ass. Ingram can't afford to be dazzled right now.

The night ahead is wet, and glittering and slippery. He needs his head to be clear.

_I got it wrong like I knew I would_

_And I told you I'm never gonna let you down,_

_I must never let you down,_

_But I will always let you down_

a/n: Thank you for your time and reviews. I always invisioned this as a "story on the side" that I would just keep adding to now and then to exorcise my sisterfic demons. I've wanted to see if I can sustain a long, serial kind of story (usually I'm a 15-25k story kind of person). I have a plot in mind, but it's pretty loose, so it could still go in a different direction. Whatever the case, my writing can always improve and I appreciate constructive criticism. I have to go out of town for a few days, but after that I'll get to work on Part II.


	29. Waking Up to Us

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "I'm Waking Up to Us" is a Belle and Sebastian song.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine- Waking Up to Us**

_I think I'm waking up to us_

_We're a disaster_

Marie Mitchell startles awake when the front door opens. She is expecting her husband. She prefers to meet him in the front room when she knows he's going to come home drunk. The options are better if she needs to run. She's been trapped in the bedroom before and learned her lesson the hard way.

It's not her husband, though, in the doorway. It's her youngest son. He's soaked to the bone and she can smell the mud on his clothes. He peels his jacket off with some effort and lays it down on a chair by the door.

"Ma?" He says when he sees her. "Dad ain't home?"

She shakes her head. When he steps closer to her and she sees his face, she gasps and stands up.

"Jesus, Duane, what happened to you?"

Duane shakes his head. "Just a fight, Ma. I seen you worse."

She backs away, angry with embarrassment. "What do you want? I ain't seen you in weeks. How come you ain't staying with that Walker boy?"

Duane takes a deep breath. He doesn't want to say out loud that he just had an urge to come home. He had wanted to see her. Now that he's here and he remembers exactly what home is like, he knows he isn't going to get what he needs from this. As long as he's here, though, he might as well get a little something to make the pain go away.

"I think I busted some ribs," he tells her. "You got anything?"

And she does. When Duane was six, his father threw his mother down a flight of stairs and tore her back up. She's been on a hit parade of painkillers every since. She doesn't even know the names of the things she takes anymore. She doesn't even regard the colors before she pops them in.

"Yeah, I got some. Lay down, son. I'll go look."

That's as much mothering as Duane has come to expect. _Lay down, son, I'll get you lit._ He sheds his boots and jeans and lies down on the sofa. There must be dry clothes of his or Nicky's around somewhere. Maybe she'll get him some. If not, he isn't going to care how wet his clothes are once he gets a hold of whatever else she brings him.

Marie returns with a glass of water and a closed hand. She opens it and drops four pills into his waiting palm. He doesn't ask what they are, just throws them back with the water.

He tells her thanks and to go on upstairs.

"I'll wake up if Dad comes in," he promises her. Having no idea how much of what he's just taken, he doesn't really know if it's a promise he can keep.

* * *

The last place Ingram looks is the place where he finds him. It's probably the most obvious place, given the circumstances, but still not a place where Ingram wants to go.

He opens the glove compartment and checks for Duane's gun before he drives over the imaginary line into River King turf. He has no intention of carrying it, but he wants to be sure that Duane hasn't found it and has it on him.

The house where Duane and Nicky Mitchell grew up is pretty much like all the houses the closer they come to the Arkansas River and downtown. It's a rowhouse, two stories, with a tiny strip of yard. The front of every house looks the same, although the tenants have each tried to differentiate theirs from the others with various decorations and professions of their faith.

Ingram finds the Mitchell house not by the number on the front but by the hand-painted cross proclaiming Jesus is Lord by the steps. Ingram can't help but click his tongue at it. Every experience he's ever had with the Mitchell parents has led him deeper into his own belief that their Lord is asleep at the wheel. Duane and Nicky's father is a savage man. Ingram has never known anyone so cruel. How Duane came away from that upbringing with any semblance of humanity is beyond him. That Nicky grew up to be Nicky, however, makes perfect sense.

There is a soft light on in the front room. Ingram parks the car, and steps up the walk. He pats his back jeans pocket before he reaches the door. He took the switchblade Duane had given him out before the rumble. He is going to have to depend on Mrs. Mitchell's being too tired or too beat up herself to make a commotion.

Before he knocks on the door, Ingram takes a peek in the front window. Duane is on the sofa. The TV is on, but he appears to be dozing. For a moment, Ingram thinks of just leaving him there, but then he isn't confident of what might happen if Nicky was to stop home.

He taps on the door softly. Duane stirs on the couch, and Ingram lets himself in.

"Are you out of your mind?" Duane whispers when he sees him.

"You was beat up pretty bad. You must've been out of your mind yourself to come here."

"My mom's always got some kind of pills. I'm feeling all right. Christ, Walker, go on home."

"The cops shot one of Mathew's buddies."

"Killed him?"

Ingram nods.

Duane scowls down at the worn carpet and then says, "I think I dug us in too deep, buddy. We should've just stuck it out. Maybe if we'd worked real hard at being really bad drug dealers, Vaughan'd just let us go."

"He'd found use for us somehow," Ingram says. "Most likely looking for something could only be found at the bottom of the Arkansas."

Duane grins, and it obviously pains him. "Yeah, but that was Vaughan and Nicky. Just us against them. Now they brought all of Heaven and earth down upon us. How we going to get out from under that?"

"I don't believe in Heaven, so that half's a non-issue," Ingram tells him.

"Yeah, what about everyone else on earth being against us?"

"It ain't everyone. Just about half of everyone. Still pretty good odds."

Duane rubs his face in his massive hands as though he's trying to claw away cobwebs. Ingram looks around for the bottle of whatever Mrs. Mitchell was keeping squirreled away. He wonders what all Duane is on.

"I'm sorry, Ingram," Duane mutters into his hands. "For making you come all the way down here."

"Ain't no big deal. Sort of miss the old neighborhood."

Duane looks up, shaking his head. "This ain't your neighborhood. You was never from here, and you were never like us. You still ain't."

"Well, you ain't like one them either, buddy. Y'all come on home when you think you can stand upright."

Without further fanfare, Ingram stands up and walks to the door. He closes it quietly behind him and goes back to the car.

* * *

Duane jerks out of his sleep, unsure of where he is and whether or not last night even happened. The sun is pouring through the front window. The figure sitting in the chair facing him- watching him- is backlit and it takes him a second to recognize who it is.

He sits up slowly, looking around for his jeans. In his head, he again curses Ingram for taking his gun.

"And a gracious good morning to you, little brother," Nicky says.

"Shut up, fucker," Duane replies.

"Rough night?"

"What does it look like?"

Duane's eyes adjust and he can see Nicky grinning at that. Duane flexes his fingers. He did not follow Ingram's advice to tape his hand and now the fingers are swollen and caked with blood.

"Ain't your shooting hand, is it?" Nicky asks.

"Why do you ask? You tell them to leave that alone? Was that part of the deal?"

Nicky shakes his head, trying to look innocent. "What'd the old lady give you, Baby Duane? You got to still be good and hopped up if you think I had anything to do with that."

"You or Vaughan. One of you had a hand in this. Don't really matter to me which. The two of you is like an entity."

Nicky frowns. Duane knows he doesn't know what an entity is.

"You act as one," he says, having mercy on his brother. "You're like one being."

"The same might be said of you and Johnnie Walker. Where is that dumbass redneck anyways?"

"How should I know? I barely know where I am, Nick."

"You're home, Duane. Back where you should be, and I'm sincerely hoping it means you've come to the conclusion that you've played out this little game of yours."

"Speak English, asshole."

"I'd have thought you'd be impressed with my patience, little brother. Ain't exactly one of my strong suits. See, I knew you'd come back around. It was Vaughan who got tired of waiting and set the Brumly boys on you as a little added incentive. Me, I was willing to wait. I knew you'd be back."

"I'm back here because I live here," Duane reminds him. "Not because I'm coming back to the River."

"You live here now? I thought you lived with Walker."

"I grew up here- with you. Christ, Nicky, are you really this stupid or are you stringing me along for some reason? Either way, it's too early and my head hurts too much."

Nicky stands up, and Duane prepares to stand too. Nicky waves his hand though, and walks on by Duane.

"Take it easy, Baby Duane. Let me get you a cup of coffee. Then maybe you'll be more in the mood to talk. 'Cause that's all I'm here for- just want to talk."

Duane sits back again when Nicky goes to the kitchen. His jeans have disappeared from the room. His mother must have come around at some point and took them to wash. He wonders what she did with his wallet and his blade.

Nicky returns with a cup of coffee for each of them. Duane takes the cup from him and places it between his knees. He can't bend the fingers on his left hand enough to hold on to it.

"You're welcome," Nicky says cheerfully to Duane's lack of a 'thank-you'.

Duane raises the cup towards Nicky in acknowledgement. "So, do continue. You were telling me about how patient you are?"

"Yeah." Nicky resumes his seat, still smiling. "I'm becoming something of a diplomat, too."

"And you've picked up a few big, new words, too."

"Comes with the territory. You know Gary's just about done for. He don't do shit except for blow crank these days. Lost his edge. Basically, we'll be using him as a human shield if we ever need to."

Duane nods and sips his coffee. "I'm sure Gary will be proud to go down for the cause."

"I don't really give a fuck about that," Nicky replies, assuming Duane was being serious. "I'm more concerned with you, and seeing as I'm coming up as second in command now, I'm in a position to do something about that."

"And that something would be?"

"Walker. His priorities are all askew. We're going to need you to straighten that out for us."

Duane sets his coffee down on the floor next to his feet. He narrows his eyes at his brother. "You're out of your tree if you think I'm going to do Walker in for you."

"I don't expect you to do Walker. Just take him down a few notches. If he can't be convinced, he needs to be made ineffective."

Duane narrows his eyes. "How is it you suggest I convince him?"

"Well, the girl would be my first choice. Was my impression from the other night that he's grown rather attached to her."

"Ah, hell no. She's just a little girl, Nicky. I ain't doing in no girl."

"No one said anything about doing her in. What you do with her is up to you. It's my guess that Walker could be pretty easily swayed. He might not need to feel that there's a threat. He might just need to feel like he's lost her."

"You want me to fool around with the girl?"

"Well, doesn't that sound nicer than putting a hole in her head?"

"You haven't met her," Duane tells him.

Nicky raises his hands. "The decision is yours, Duane. All we ask is a little assurance that you're working with us and not still playing this Dynamic Duo charade with Walker."

Duane sighs. If he thought his brother could read beyond a third grade level, he'd suspect that Vaughan himself had written out a script for Nicky to memorize. None of those words are Nicky's words. He's parroting a plan conceived by Vaughan.

Before he can reply their mother comes in to the living room. She doesn't greet either of them. She looks over Duane's battered face and shakes her head. Then she turns to Nicky.

"Get your brother a pair of pants, will you?"

"Morning, Ma," Nicky says. He stands again, grinning.

She grumbles what might be a "good morning" back at him and then says to Duane, "Take a shower and then let me look at that hand. I can't even begin to guess how bad off you are with all that blood caked on. Jesus, Duane, you look like you killed someone."

"I told you, Ma, it was just a fight. Nicky's trying to encourage me to kill someone, though."

"Don't say things like that, Duane."

Duane manages a laugh at her stubborn commitment to keeping her head in the sand. "Old man come home?"

"What do you think? It's awful quiet, ain't it?"

"I'll take that as a 'no'. How long he been gone?"

She pushes a curl back from her face in an effort to hide her irritation. "I haven't really been keeping track. Just been enjoying the quiet. You think you and your brother can keep it quiet around here?"

"I ain't staying, Mama," Nicky says, returning with a pair of jeans. He tosses them at Duane. "Just come in to check on Baby, here."

"I'll take that shower," Duane tells her, keeping his eyes on Nicky. "Then I'll be out of your hair."

Her demeanor changes and her voice becomes frail, almost pleading. "Well, you don't have to go. I just don't want no fighting here, no drinking."

"Fighting and drinking's about all I'm good for, Ma," Nicky says, winking at Duane. "I promise you I'll take it somewhere's else. Duane, where am I going to be able to find you?"

"I'll find you," Duane tells him.

He slings the jeans over his shoulder and heads towards the stairs and the bathroom, laying a hand on his mother's shoulder as he goes. He doesn't like her, but he feels sorry for her. She can smell his sympathy like cheap liquor and it pisses her off about as much. They've never found a way around this in their relationship. They've stalled and Duane had thought he'd handled it best he could by just going away.

Behind him, he hears the front door slam. Nicky has left without a word of goodbye to either his mother or brother.

Duane pauses at the top of the stairs to look back at his mother, who is still standing there. She is glowing soft and golden in her fuzzy bathrobe and the morning light. For just an instant she looks like someone he could go to for comfort, someone who might have a magic wand hidden in the folds of her robe.

Then she senses his stare and looks up at him.

"What?" She says.

Duane smiles at her. "Nothing, Ma."

_I haven't changed, how could I?_

_I'm pretty much the same person_

_I cannot keep the anger hidden anymore_

_But lucky for you, you are not around_

_My anger turns to pity and to love_

_The season has arrived, the season has arrived_


	30. Mutiny

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Mutiny" is a song by William Elliott Whitmore. He's from Iowa, so obviously he's cool as hell.

Chapter 30- Mutiny

_Well, I don't want to be saved.  
I just want to be free_

"Although her earlier poems are full of flower and garden imagery- images that team with growth and life, some things happened in Dickinson's later life that led her to write primarily about sickness and death. What were some of those events? Pauline?"

Even the Socs in Mr. Arthur's English class look at him open-mouthed. Every kid in school knows that today is the day of Dallas Winston and Johnny Cade's funerals, and no one can believe that Mr. Arthur could be so cruel or so stupid as to ask Pauline to rattle off the litany of deaths that led to Dickinson's emotional decline.

Pauline looks up from the copy of Barefoot Boy with Cheek she has hidden inside her American literature textbook. She is about to answer dryly that "everyone Dickinson knew died on her", when the secretary breaks the uncomfortable silence by calling out on the intercom.

"Pauline Mathews, please report to your advisor. Pauline Mathews, please report to Mr. Wayne's office immediately."

Pauline peeks over at Kathy and shrugs. Usually, Pauline's attendance issues are taken care of in Mr. Halliday's office. She has been to see her advisor, Mr. Wayne, all of twice in her high school career. She has no idea what he could want with her. Her first thought is that something has happened to her father and it was determined by the powers that be that a more sensitive adult than Halliday should break the news. _No_, she thinks, _if it was Dad they'd be calling Two-Bit too._

Pauline stands up, stows her contraband book, and shrugs at Mr. Arthur. He sighs and waves towards that door. As she exits, she can hear him redirecting his question to Kathy.

The counseling offices are on the next floor and Pauline walks there slowly. She passes the Journalism classroom and takes a deep breath of the chemical smell that emanates from the darkroom within. She'd rather be there.

She knocks softly at Mr. Wayne's door and hears him say "come on in". Mr. Wayne sits at his desk, framed photograph of an A-bomb explosion behind him. During the war, Mr. Wayne had been dispatched to Nagasaki as a medic after the bombing. He has been fraught with health problems ever since, and Pauline remembers him saying- with no hint of worry or bitterness- that more likely the exposure will kill him in the end. Some of the other students are afraid to go near him- afraid that Mr. Wayne might be radioactive himself. Pauline never went to see him because she just never felt she needed to be counseled.

Mr. Wayne and his A-bomb photograph are not alone today. There is a man Pauline has never seen before sitting in the chair opposite the guidance counselor. They both stand when Pauline enters, and although the gesture is purely polite, it makes her nervous.

"Pauline, this is Dr. Marshall. Dr. Marshall, this is Pauline Mathews."

Dr. Marshall extends his hand and Pauline shakes it. Her stomach begins to tighten as she sits, wondering why they've brought in a doctor to see her.

Mr. Wayne explains: "Dr. Marshall is a professor at Oklahoma State in Stillwater. He is a professor in their art department."

"I was here scouting a couple of students," Dr. Marshall jumps in. He seems almost to be scolding Mr. Wayne. "I saw some of your photographs in the Journalism lab, and I wanted to meet you."

Pauline frowns. College scouts almost always only come around for the athletes. If they come to see other students at all, those students are Socs.

"I understand that you are a senior this year, Miss Mathews?"

"Yes, sir," Pauline says.

"Have you given any thought to college? You display a considerable talent for photography."

Pauline looks at the professor blankly. She really hadn't given it any thought. Today, she hasn't been able to think about anything but Johnny and Dally.

Mr. Wayne manages to harness himself a clue and interjects on Pauline's behalf.

"Dr. Marshall, we have had a couple of deaths in the community in the last few days. Two acquaintances of Miss Mathews and her family passed away."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Mathews," Dr. Marshall says. He speaks to Pauline and not Mr. Wayne, and Pauline gets the sense that his sympathy is genuine.

She takes a deep breath and says, "I hadn't given it a lot of thought, sir. I don't know where I'd get the money."

"For now, Miss Mathews, I'd like to ask you not to make money your first consideration. I know that sounds impossible, but there are scholarships and part-time jobs. Those things can be worked out. I'd like to encourage you to apply. If you could, put together a portfolio of your work and come to meet the department in a couple of weeks."

Pauline doesn't know what a portfolio is. She doesn't know if she has one or not. She'll have to ask Mr. Wayne when Dr. Marshall leaves.

"Meet the department?"

"Yes. All of our prospective students need to meet with the Art faculty before we accept them formally. I've left an application with Mr. Wayne and a request for your transcripts. How are your grades?"

Pauline sneaks a glance at Mr. Wayne and is thankful when he says nothing. "They're okay, I think. I've had some attendance problems in the past."

"Her grades are fine," Mr. Wayne says.

"Good to hear. So, fill out that application, send it in, and we'll contact you about coming down to Stillwater to meet the faculty. Sound good?"

Pauline nods, dumbfounded. She doesn't know how it sounds. It sounds bizarre.

"Well, then," Dr. Marshall continues. "We'll look forward to hearing from you. About twelve to fifteen of your photographs in the portfolio. There doesn't need to be an overlying theme, but we should get a good sense of your personal style and artistic vision."

_So that's a portfolio._ Pauline has no idea what her artistic vision is. She guesses she has about two weeks to find one.

Perhaps because he trusts her too much or perhaps because the radiation has affected the part of his brain that ferrets away policies and procedures, Mr. Wayne fails to give Pauline a pass back to English. Pauline takes the opportunity to flee the campus and go outside to walk until her head quits spinning quite so much.

She tries to remember if she's ever been to Stillwater. She has an uncle- her father's brother- who went to OSU on the GI bill. He never majored in anything, and for all she knows he's still there. Pauline can't remember ever visiting him though. It crosses her mind that Ingram has probably passed through there on a train, but the thought makes her wrinkle her nose and she forces it from her head.

She hasn't heard from Ingram all weekend and she hasn't tried to make contact. Most likely both he and her mother assume she is going to show up at the DX after school, but Pauline has no intention of that. She doesn't want to see him, at least not until she can articulate exactly what it is that has her so angry.

Still, she can't quite get him out of her head. As she walks, she thinks about what he said about her photographs. She doesn't know what to include in her portfolio. She doesn't know what her vision is, but both Ingram and Kathy seem to think they know. The pictures that aren't trying to say anything at all- the ones of her family and her friends just being themselves- are the ones they like the best. Ingram had said it made him feel important to see pictures of regular guys like him. Kathy had attached more meaning to the photo of her father than Pauline has ever heard him give to himself.

She finds herself close to the center of town, walking along the gate of the cemetery where earlier today someone buried Dallas Winston. Johnny's funeral was at that same time in a different cemetery- somewhere smaller and more out of the way, kind of like Johnny himself. Dallas is appropriately buried close to the downtown, and it seems equally appropriate that Pauline finds Tim standing at the gate looking in at the graves as though stepping across the threshold might lead him to the same fate.

He continues staring in as she comes up beside him, but she knows he knows she's there.

"Did you go?" She asks.

Tim shakes his head.

"To the funeral? No, I don't think there was much of one- probably just his old man standing around with a bottle."

Pauline seems naturally drawn forward into the cemetery and with her at his side Tim is no longer wary of entering.

The grass crunches beneath their feet. The air is still except for the occasional gust of bitter wind. The grey granite headstones all around them look as though they might shatter and crack.

Tim and Pauline follow the paved lane past the circle of white veteran's graves and around a wealthy family's mausoleum. As far as they can get from the gate, out of sight of the main street, is the potter's field. The graves are marked with small metal plaques, some with wooden crosses.

Tim stops and nods towards the far corner, as though he isn't going any further. "Over there."

"Come on," Pauline says, and tugs on the sleeve of his leather jacket.

They get to the edge of the field, where the graves are newer. There is no grass yet on the hardened mounds of earth. Someone has purchased the metal plaque that reads "Dallas M. Winston". Pauline suspects Two-Bit, and it makes her smile a little. There is no other adornment. Tim tosses down a couple of cigarettes.

"They hate that," he says. "The cemetery people. I guess it's littering unless it's flowers."

"Somehow flowers just don't seem quite Dally," Pauline nods. "Cigarettes seem about right."

Not realizing he has moved to stand behind her, Pauline steps back into Tim. His hands grab on to both of her arms to steady her, and then don't let go. She can feel his breath as he presses his face against the back of her neck. For a second, she thinks he is crying and just doesn't want her to see, but then he turns her around to face him and kisses her.

Pauline slides her hands up his chest, under his open jacket- because the next Ice Age could be setting in and Tim Shepard would still be too cool to zip up his jacket- and around the back of his neck. They stand over Dally's grave, pressed against one another, trading kisses and teasing little flicks of the tongue back and forth until a gust of wind blows enough dust to make them stop and turn away from it.

He creeps an arm around her shoulder and smiles that sly little smile.

Pauline rolls her eyes and he puts his arms around her shoulders again, pulling her back to him. He pushes her hair back and mumbles to her neck. "Ain't nobody home at my place. Why don't you come back and hang out for a while?"

She ponders it. "I got to be at home by five."

"You know I can get you home. Come on," he says with a wink. Then, sounding impressed, "you really going to fool around on Ingram?"

"I ain't fooling around on Ingram," Pauline says. "For that to be, there would have to be a me and Ingram."

Tim smirks. "You know, every other girl I've ever known, it's like she's fighting and clawing for a guy to put a ring on her finger. These days, seems like you run from that noise like a commitment would about choke you."

Pauline shrugs. Maybe she's more like Two-Bit than she'd like to admit. Maybe they both learned a trick or two from their father.

"What do you want, Tim?" She asks.

"What do I want? Right now? I thought that was pretty clear."

Pauline rolls her eyes. "Creep. No, I mean, down the road. Do you ever want to settle down? Find a nice girl, or any girl who will have you…"

"Yeah, preferably something female. I don't know. I'm in the habit of not thinking too far ahead, I guess. In the immediate, it seems like something always happens like with Dally. If I look too far ahead, then I start to see my parents. I don't want that either."

They reach Tim's car, and he opens the door for her. As she turns to sit down, he catches her arm and kisses her one more time. Pauline has to admit that it's a blinding kiss, but she feels nothing for him otherwise. He's just a really good kisser.

He pulls away from her when another car turns and drives passed them going into the cemetery.

"Damnit," he grumbles. "I suppose there's a funeral or something."

"You don't think it's the circus come to town?" Pauline asks. He grins at her and starts around the front of his car. His face changes suddenly, but before Pauline can look in the direction of what changed it, Tim's car lurches forward and she is knocked to the ground.

Pauline shakes her head, dazed. She sits up on her knees, paying no attention to the gravel stuck in her hands. She can't see Tim. He was in front of the car and it had to have hit him. There are footsteps now and the sound of doors slamming. Pauline looks around.

The dark red LaSabre that had hit Tim's car from behind is unfolding, and figures are spilling out from every opening. She isn't sure- in her daze, Pauline thinks there might be guys coming out of the trunk.

"Tim?" Pauline calls.

"You all right, kid?" She isn't even relieved when she hears his voice. "What the fuck?"

The first of the pairs of feet charges past her. They don't even seem to notice Pauline. They're all headed for the front of the car.

"Tim, run!" She screams, but they're too fast. There are five or six guys. She's still too dizzy to focus on their faces. She can hear the sound of skin slamming against skin as they haul Tim to his feet and begin hitting him. It doesn't take long before he isn't fighting back anymore.

Two of the figures carry Tim past Pauline and throw him into the back of the car. She calls out again, but the last one to go by reaches down and weaves his fingers into her hair. She screams, but is cut off when he pulls her head forward and then back again, slamming it into the side of Tim's car. She feels herself falling away from the daylight. She can't tell if the waning sound is the LaSabre pulling away or her pulling away from it.

_Well, it's a god damn shame what's going down.  
How we got to this, I do not know.  
There's a sick, sick wind that's blowing round.  
And the captain's got to go._


	31. Things Snowball

SE Hinton owns it. "Things Snowball" is a song by John Wesley Harding. Minimal proof-reading here. Hit me with your best shot(s).

Thirty-One- Things Snowball

_When childish habits are slow to die  
You might look up and wonder why  
Things snowball in the twinkling of an eye_

"Where's Paulie?"

Ingram has been alone at the DX all day. Mr. Ellis has given Soda and Steve the time off to attend the funerals. Business at the pumps has been minimal and Ingram has mostly spent his time in the back changing oil and rotating tires. Two-Bit's voice startles him a little and jars him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, Walker. Ain't my sister supposed to be here by now?"

Ingram turns away from the radiator he's filling at looks at the clock. It's almost four. He shrugs at Two-Bit.

"Yeah, as per her deal with your mom. Didn't really expect to see her though."

Two-Bit steps into the front to get a soda from the cooler. Ingram can hear him open and close the register, depositing his money and making his own change.

"Who broke it off? You or her?" He calls back to Ingram.

"Was mutual."

Two-Bit reappears. He takes a drink of his soda and smirks.

"Can't say I'm too awful broken up about that. Can I ask why?"

"You can," Ingram replies, but doesn't elaborate. Two-Bit can ask anything he wants. It doesn't mean Ingram has any kind of an answer.

"Well, ain't you even a little bit worried about her and where she might be?"

"I'm worried about a lot of things. Why don't you call your mom? Maybe she showed up at the bar."

"I'd like to put that off as long as I can," Two-Bit says. "My mom's going to hit the roof if Paulie's gone AWOL again. I'd like to know that there's really something wrong before I call and tell her there's really something wrong."

"Well, I don't have a clue. She go to the funerals?"

Two-Bit shakes his head. "Mom wouldn't let her. Said she's already missed enough school. Kathy says she ditched during fifth period though. Got called out of class and never came back."

Ingram sighs. He puts the cap back on the radiator and slams the hood shut. He wipes his hands on a rag and then replaces the jug of coolant on the shelf where it came from. He slides in behind the driver's seat, cranks the ignition, and pulls the car out into the empty lot next to the DX. Leaving the keys in it, he goes back in to the front of the shop to write out the charge on a ticket. All of this takes him long enough that he just assumes Two-Bit will have wandered off by the time he returns to the shop.

Two-Bit is still there, though, sitting on an oil drum and tapping his near-empty soda bottle against his knee.

"I'm not really in a position to go looking for her right this minute," Ingram tells him.

"Wasn't asking you to. I'm just thinking."

Ingram wants for all the world to ask Two-Bit if he absolutely must do his thinking right here. He keeps his mouth shut though and begins tidying up the shop for the night. He gets about two good sweeps of the floor in before Two-Bit's silence overcomes him. Two-Bit not talking is just too disconcerting.

"What do you want me to do?" He asks.

Two-Bit shakes his head. "I don't know. I wish you'd do something though. That whole night was so fucked up. It's like everything went wrong at once. I never liked you going with my sister, but now you ditching her seems like just one more thing that went to shambles Friday night."

"I didn't ditch your sister. She told me to get lost."

Two-Bit smiles at that one. "Did she? And you gallantly obeyed? Man, do you know how many times a day she's told me to get lost for the last seventeen and a half years? I think I was about three when I figured out she didn't mean to get lost forever and ever."

"Why don't you make up your damned mind?" Ingram snaps. "I'd think you'd be turning cartwheels. I decided you were right about me and Pauline. She and I ain't going to be nothing but trouble to one another, so I'm just going to let it go."

"You're not the least bit curious as to where she is?"

Ingram shakes his head and goes back to sweeping. He doesn't want to know where she is right now. He doesn't want to think about it. He'd be the happiest man alive, though, if she was sitting on his steps when he gots home.

* * *

Pauline is first aware of the dull pain in the back of her head, and then of the pain in the palms of her hands. That's different- it stings. After that, she starts to feel how cold she is. She flexes her fingers and opens her eyes.

She is still lying on the ground next to Tim's car in the cemetery. The sky is darker, but it's overcast, not yet night. She pushes herself to sit up. The pain in her head is nauseating. She doubles over to throw up before she can call out for Tim.

He is gone. She is alone in the cemetery. She stands and walks around the car. The passenger door is still open. The rear bumper is mangled and twisted like a piece of licorice. She walks to the driver's side and opens the door. She slides in behind the wheel and looks around for the keys. She can't remember if Tim had them on him or not when they left the car.

There don't appear to be any keys, but the ends of the ignition wires are hanging out from a seam in the steering column. Apparently, Tim has needed to hotwire his own car a time or two.

Pauline squints. Her head is pounding and she can't get it to recall the steps. Two-Bit showed her how to do this once. She's taken his car a couple of times when she deemed him too drunk to drive but couldn't get him to give up his keys.

She can't quite remember, though. Maybe she should walk. Pauline straightens up and looks at herself in the rearview mirror. Her hair is a mess, and she must have bit her lip when she fell. It is swollen and there is blood caked on her chin. She tries to rub it off, but it hurts too much. She gives up and sits back in the driver's seat, waiting for nothing.

* * *

Two-Bit walks away from the DX, middle finger raised to Ingram and his stubborn determination to do nothing.

He doesn't know for sure why he is so obsessed with Pauline's whereabouts. Perhaps it's more of a diversion than anything else. He attended two funerals before lunchtime today. He'd love to be able to focus his thoughts on anything besides Dally and Johnny.

If he had the sense God gave a goat, he knows he should be calling Kathy. She probably knows where Pauline is, and she'd love nothing more than to provide him solace in his time of need. He doesn't want to talk to Kathy though. He'd rather talk to his little sister, with her smart little mouth. Pauline knew Dally, and she'll get what Two-Bit means when he wonders aloud how it's possible to miss someone so much when all you ever did was snipe at him.

In the absence of his sister, Two-Bit determines that a drink will do the trick. He isn't ready to put in a call to his mom just yet, so he heads for Buck's instead.

* * *

When she does regain her senses enough to make some kind of decision, Pauline forces Tim's car to turn over and drives in the direction of the people most likely to have some interest in saving him.

The parking lot in front of Buck's is nearly empty. It's 4:30 on a Monday afternoon, and the party crowd won't begin to arrive until well after nightfall. She recognizes a few cars, though. Arden is here, and a couple other members of the Shepard gang must be lurking around. Maybe she'll find Duane.

She is greeted with stares when she steps through the door. Oblivious to the mess that they're staring at, Pauline looks around.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sylvia Harney chucks her towel at the bar and hurries up to Pauline. When she doesn't get an answer, Sylvia grabs her arm and drags her in the direction of the ladies room.

Pauline's interaction with Sylvia has always been minimal. She knows they're the same age, but Sylvia got pregnant at fifteen, gave the baby up, and never came back to school. Her family tossed her out when she got knocked up, and she never went back to them either. For the past two and half years, she has lived in a sort of self-imposed exile in one of the rooms above Buck's. She waits tables in the bar and does God-knows-what-else for him. Before his death, she lived under the delusion that every woman who stumbled across her radar was going to challenge her for Dally. Pauline has always steered clear of her.

"Mathews, what happened to you?"

Pauline shakes her head. "Tim…I got jumped with Tim. They took him, and I don't know where he is."

"Oh my Christ," Sylvia whispers, and goes more pale than Pauline thinks maybe she ought to. "Who took him?"

"I don't know. They knocked me out. We went to see Dal. Shit, we were leaving and this car came up and hit us."

Sylvia hands Pauline a wet towel. Pauline takes it from her and turns to dap at her lip in the mirror. Behind her, Sylvia leans again the bathroom stall with her arms crossed.

"Where were you going with Tim?"

Pauline shakes her head. "I don't know. Back to his place, I guess. Is Arden here? Duane? Any of those guys? Shit, Sylvia, they beat the holy crap out of him. I think he was unconscious when they put him in the car."

Sylvia snorts. "He'd better have been."

"What the hell? What are you talking about? Did you hear what I just said?" Pauline turns around and is greeted with a slap across the face.

She stumbles back, but only for a second. She gets it now. Yeah, she gets it. Fucking Tim and fucking Sylvia. She knows it's foolish to be angry with Sylvia when it was Tim who was playing them both, but she has to be furious with somebody. Sylvia is just lucky enough to be there.

Pauline regains her footing and lurches forward. She snatches Sylvia by the collar and backhands her across the mouth. Sylvia shrieks and struggles to get away, but Pauline holds on. She shakes Sylvia by the collar until she can see that the other girl is dizzy and disoriented. Then she shoves her hard, letting her fall and slide across the bathroom floor.

"Where is Arden?" She shouts. "Jesus Christ, Sylvia, where the hell is Duane?"

"Isn't he usually with your boyfriend Ingram?" Sylvia hisses, wiping blood away from her nose with the back of hand. "I guess maybe you don't want to bring Ingram in on this."

"I could give a fuck about Ingram," Pauline says. She hates the way it feels when she says it. "You want to take it out on me or shall we resolve to help each other find Tim so we can take turns kicking him in the crotch for playing us?"

"Arden's back playing pool. I ain't seen Duane," Sylvia tells her.

"Thank you." Pauline straightens her blouse, and pushes the restroom door open. Without looking down at her, she reaches out an arm to help Sylvia to her feet. Sylvia refuses it.

"I got to fix my hair."

Pauline mumbles, "Jesus…" under her breath.

Before she can leave, Sylvia asks her, "Paulie, did y'all…did you and him…?"

"No," Pauline snaps. "He kissed me. That was it."

She hears Sylvia exhale heavily behind her, but she can't tell if it's from relief or frustration. Pauline leaves Sylvia to fixing her hair. She goes back out into the main room of the bar, but before she can turn in to the pool room, Two-Bit comes through the door.

"Holy shit," is all he can say.

"Yeah, I got to quit skipping school," she replies. "Two-Bit, I was with Shepard and we got jumped."

"Socs?"

"No, I don't think so. I didn't really see faces, but they didn't have any new, spiffy shoes. The car- I saw the car."

"What kind of car? Where's Shepard?"

"They took him. It was a dark red car. Maroon."

"What do you mean 'they took him'?"

"They took him...away. They shang-hi'd him. I don't know where he is. I don't even know when it happened. I don't know how long I was out." And now the hysteria starts to well up inside her. She looks up at him and her lip starts to quiver. She raises her hands in a hopeless gesture, and Two-Bit takes hold of her wrists.

"I don't know where he is, Two-Bit," she babbles. "He's gone, and I don't know…how long it ago it was. He could be anywhere."

Two-Bit nods as she speaks to him. He starts to lead her towards the door. Pauline resists and tries to pull back to towards the pool room instead.

"No," she insists. "Arden…I've got to tell Arden…"

"No, I think you and I need to go. How did you get here?"

"I got Tim's car. What? Shouldn't I tell Arden?"

Two-Bit releases her wrists and puts his arm around her. He shakes his head. "Seriously, Paulie. It's Arden. If he ain't in on it, he sure as shit ain't going to be able to make anything of it. No way. If we're going to tell anyone, it's going to be someone with a clear head and an IQ above thirty. I'll drive. Where's your boyfriend live?"

_He said "listen" and I told him "I'd rather die"  
But I changed my mind_


	32. Bring It On Home to Me

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders, Two-Bit and Tim. "Bring It on Home to Me" is a Sam Cooke song. I always imagined Tim and Pauline dancing to this song in Buck's at some point, but maybe it just wasn't mean to be.

**Thirty-Two- Bring It On Home to Me**

_If you ever change your mind_

_About leaving, leaving me behind…_

Pauline plunks herself down in the passenger seat of Tim's car and waits for Two-Bit to get in.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Shit, Paulie," Two-Bit says. He leans over to assess the wires hanging from the steering column, gesturing to Pauline's book bag with his free hand. "I'll burn one with you if you got any."

Pauline reaches past him and pushes the lighter in. She digs in her bag and produces the pack of dried-out Camels.

"He ain't."

"Why the hell not? You and him were having a good time, weren't you?"

"You've had plenty of good times of your own, as I recall. I also seem to recall that you have a difficult time calling any of them a girlfriend."

"Jesus." Two-Bit puts the car in reverse and peels out of the parking lot, not-so-innocently spraying Bobby Dawson's car with gravel. "It ain't the same thing."

"How is it not the same thing? Turn right. How is it not the same?"

"It's not the same because it's my own choice to blow off the girls I'm with. I shouldn't have been trying to make you do the same."

Pauline shakes her head at him. She lights up the joint and then hands it to Two-Bit. "How early did you start drinking today? Explain to me how everything that goes wrong on God's green earth is your fault?"

Two-Bit inhales and exhales heavily, so much so that for a moment the smoke obscures his view. He rolls down the window to clear the air.

"All of this, Paulie. Think about it. If I'd just stayed with Pony and Johnny that night, none of this would have happened. I should have stayed with them, and kept my nose out of you and Ingram's business."

"Idiot, we've been through this. Johnny and Pony did what they did. If you'd been there, probably one more person would've got stabbed. You can't be everywhere all the time."

"Everything I touched since that night has gone to shit. I don't know what you seen in him, but at least Walker looked after you, which is more than I ever did. Now Johnny's gone, Dally's gone, and you're back to wandering the streets with Shepard…who never did shit for you I might add. I just want to put one thing right. I want to have a hand in something that's good."

"You got your hands on _that_. Give it here," Pauline swipes the joint from him again. "You make it sound like I don't have a mind of my own. That's what I hate about you, Two-Bit. You think you're some kind of martyr because you're willing to take credit for everything that goes wrong around here? Why don't you give me a little credit for making my own decisions?"

"Just the stupid ones," he mumbles.

Pauline flicks ashes at him. "How about this- I'm going to college."

Both of them are struck silent. Before she said it, Pauline hadn't really considered the professor's offer. In the chaos of the afternoon, she'd forgotten all about it. Now that the words have left her mouth, it occurs to her that she may actually have to follow through with it.

"Of course you are," Two-Bit says, and that surprises her too. He isn't being sarcastic. He's dead serious, like it's something he's never questioned.

Even so, Pauline says, "no, really. Some art professor came to school today. He saw my pictures and he wants me to apply. I have to put a portfolio together. I want to take pictures of everybody. Think about it: we don't have a single blessed picture of Dally. I might have one of Johnny when he and Pony were playing ball in the lot. Really, it's like half of Johnny because he was trying to hide from me. Fuck, now Tim's stuffed in a trunk somewhere. Everyone's gone too soon, and we don't have nothing left of them."

Two-Bit frowns hard. The daylight is fading, but Pauline can see his lip twitch. He sucks on the joint and tries to blink back the tears.

"I want to take pictures of everyone that's left," Pauline says, her voice more quiet. "It already feels like Dal and Johnny were never here."

Two-Bit nods. Pauline points for him to make a left turn.

"Where are you going to go to college?" He asks, after a short silence.

"It's just an interview."

"Where?"

"Stillwater. You ever been there?"

"We both have. When we were little."

"Uncle Denny?"

"Yeah. I barely remember it. Just that he had a cool apartment and no kids. He used to let me screw around with his record player. I thought it was cool as hell."

"I don't remember it."

"Nah, you were just a little thing." He smokes down the last of the joint and chucks it out the window. "You're going, Paulie. One of us has to make it out of this town alive."

Pauline doesn't know if he means that everyone else or just he is doomed. She is overwhelmed with an urge to start babbling promises: _you can come and live with me, get a GED, then you can go to college, Two-Bit._ She keeps her mouth shut, though. They have reached the rail yard, and she can see a light on in the window of Ingram's house.

"It's that one, the second one."

* * *

"We got us a problem," Two-Bit says as he bursts through the door.

Ingram is sitting at his kitchen table slicing up an apple, eating the pieces off the end of the knife. He leans back in his chair when he first sees Pauline- preparing to put on his calmest, coolest façade. When he sees her, though, he sits up straight again. Then he puts the knife and the apple down and stands up.

"What happened to you?"

Two-Bit answers for her, "she and Shepard got jumped in the cemetery. They knocked the shit out of both of them, and took him with."

Ingram doesn't take his eyes off Pauline.

She says, "Can I use your bathroom? You got a washcloth?"

Ingram nods. He follows her to the bathroom and gets her a clean washcloth from under the sink. She reaches out for it, but he turns on the faucet and wets it himself. He turns around and begins to dab at her lip with it.

Pauline frowns at him.

"They didn't do nothing else to you?" He asks.

She winces when the wash cloth touches her lip.

"Smacked my head against the side of the car to knock me out."

"Well, at least they hit you in your least vulnerable spot."

Pauline would bite her lip if she could to keep from smiling at him.

"To hell with you. Didn't hear me giving you a hard time when you showed up after the rumble."

"Pardon me, little girl, but I think you gave me all manner of shit after the rumble. Told me off, told me not to come back."

"I said it was up to you whether or not you came back."

Ingram turns away to rinse out the washcloth. He doesn't want to get into this with her again. He's content, just having her here now, letting him baby her a little. He turns back to her and leans on the edge of the sink to put himself at her eye level. He wipes some dirt away from her forehead.

"Damn, girl, no wonder you're so cool and collected. I've about got a contact high from standing this close to you."

"Then don't stand so close."

He shakes his head and the corners of his mouth curl up a little. "It's my bathroom. I'll stand where I want."

Pauline watches his eyes as he looks her face over. _Someday he's going to be old_, she thinks, _but he'll_ _always have those eyes._ He reaches with his free hand to toss one of her curls away from her face. Instinctively, she pushes her hair back with her hand. Her face tightens, and Ingram stops, thinking he's hurt her.

"Ingram, I was going to go home to with Tim," she says, almost in a whisper. She isn't sure she even wants him to hear her say it.

"But you didn't," he replies. He tips her chin up with the washcloth and inspects her face for more injuries, ignoring the tears in her eyes.

"Because a bunch of guys beat us up and tossed him in their car."

"You're here now. There. You're going to live."

Pauline doesn't move. She furrows her brow and fights the tears back down.

Ingram tosses the washcloth over her shoulder into the bathtub.

"You're all done- unless you want me to kiss it and make it all better."

Pauline drops her head, again trying not to smile. She's confused- he can tell. He's a little confused himself. Two days ago, he was telling himself she was too damned much trouble. Right now, he can hardly trouble himself enough to be sure she's okay.

"Come on, baby," he says. "You'd be a fool to turn down that kind of treatment."

Instead of raising herself up on her toes to be kissed, as he hopes and expects, Pauline leans forward and lays her head against his chest. Ingram wraps his arms around her and exhales with relief.

She looks up. "Some dude from Stillwater came to school today. A professor. He wants me to go to college."

"A man after my own heart. What'd you tell him?"

"Nothing. I'm too dumb to go to college."

Ingram smirks at her. "You're dumb for saying that. Didn't I tell you I always wanted to go with a wild college girl? You going to lay that dream of mine to waste?"

"Tim was fucking Sylvia. I was going to go off with Tim, and blow you off, and he was going to two-time me and Sylvia both. I'd say that's pretty dumb."

"Tim's a clever son of bitch. No shame in being played the fool by Tim."

She laughs quietly and slips her arms around his waist. "Jesus, should we even bother to go looking for him? He's kind of a dick."

"Yes, we should. Me and Two-Bit should. You should go home so your mama don't worry herself gray over you."

"She's going to hit the roof when she sees me like this."

"Then you go to Kathy's and hang out there. You just let me and Two-Bit find Tim."

"I want to stay here."

Ingram grins at her. He kisses her forehead and asks, "Damnit, is the sky blue, Pauline? Does the sun set in the west? Is there anything you won't argue over?"

"No, there isn't," Two-Bit says from the doorway, and then raps on the open door with his knuckles. "And I can clue you in to that and all the other irritating elements of her behavior when you and take a drive with me to look for that LaSabre."

Pauline rolls her eyes.

"LaSabre? Fuck…" Ingram says. "That's Gary Dean, all right. Going to be a short drive, partner, 'cause I know right where he is."

"That's good. Tim's about out of gas."

Ingram shakes his head. "We ain't taking Tim's piece of shit car. We're taking mine."

"Good. I'm already tired of hotwiring it."

Ingram stands up. He pokes Pauline in the nose with his index finger.

"And y'all don't be taking Tim's car nowhere either. You said you wanted to stay here, so stay here."

Pauline throws up her hands in surrender. She follows them out of the bathroom, looking around her. Ingram's house is spotless and there's no TV. She's going to go out of her mind waiting around for them with nothing to keep her occupied.

Sensing that she's already getting antsy, Ingram goes to the cupboard over the kitchen sink. He opens the door and pulls down a shoebox. He tosses it lightly on to the kitchen table and it slides across, stopping in front of Pauline.

"What's this?"

"Pictures. All the pictures of my family that my grandma saved. Familiarize yourself with Blue Ridge Mountain culture. Them is some fascinating people."

"Are there any of you?"

"Well, figuring that out will just be part of the fun, won't it? Stay put, girl."

He winks at her and picks up his jacket. Two-Bit backs out the door behind Ingram, pointing a menacing finger at Pauline. She flips him off without looking up. She's already pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of Ingram's box of pictures.

_I know I laughed when you left_

_But now I know I only hurt myself_

_Baby, bring it to me…_


	33. Brought A Knife to the Gunfight

SE Hinton owns it. "Brought a Knife to the Gunfight" is a song by Wayne Cramer. These aren't quite the lyrics I wanted to use, but I can't find my CD and the lyrics don't seem to be online anywhere. The title alone works, though.

Thirty-Three- Brought A Knife to the Gunfight

_Brought a knife to the gunfight_

_Somehow it's not enough _

_Walk in with a swagger_

_And all I do is bluff_

Nicky Mitchell shrugs and bounces Tim's unconscious head off of his shoulder and over on to his brother's. Duane grumbles something through his cigarette.

"What? He's bleeding on me," Nicky says.

"And now he's bleeding on me. Thanks, Nick."

"Cheer up, little brother. This is good. The girl would've been fun, but Shepard's going to be a lot of fun."

Duane frowns at Nicky, shakes his head, and looks out the window.

"Don't tell me you're thinking about having the same kind of fun with Shepard as you were with Pauline."

Nicky grins. "No, but you can do whatever you want. I always knew you and Walker was queers."

Duane rolls his eyes. "What are you going to do with him?"

"Which one? Tim or Walker?"

Duane nods towards Tim. He is so hungry he can hardly think straight. He has been riding around in the back of Gary's LaSabre all afternoon listening to Nicky carry on and keeping a look-out for Pauline.

The occupants of the car- aside from Duane and Tim- have no appetite for anything but speed. Whenever they offer to Duane, he takes the bottle of his mother's painkillers from his jacket pocket and rattles it a little.

"I reckon they'd about cancel each other out," he's told them at least seven times now.

Before Nicky can answer him about Tim's fate, Duane interrupts, "Hold on. What do you mean? What do you still need Walker for? Tim's a better catch. Vaughan's got half the rest of his outfit in his back pocket. The little brother's still locked up. You hang Tim, there is no Shepard gang. What do you still need with Ingram?"

Nicky smiles. Duane hates it when Nicky smiles.

"Because, little brother, I need to know that we're brothers again. You think that shit didn't get back to me? You telling everyone Walker's your brother and not me? That hurt, Baby Duane, truly it did. I need to know that you and him ain't just going to take off on us again."

"Take off to where?"

"I don't know. You sure surprised us with your little mutiny over to Shepard. Vaughan and me need to know that there ain't going to be any more surprises."

"So, you're going to kill him," Duane says.

"No, I'm going to kill _him_," Nicky pokes at Tim. "You're going to do Walker. I know I said different before, but Vaughan and I talked. It really does make the most sense."

Duane says nothing. In spite of Nicky's near-inability to read, Nicky is easy to read himself. His intentions are crystal clear. Once Duane has taken care of Ingram, Nicky is going to take care of Duane. Nicky has never been the sort to just forgive and forget.

"You're going to have to borrow me a heater," Duane says. "Johnnie Walker's got mine."

* * *

"So," Two-Bit says to Ingram. "Is there a plan or do we just go at them with gun's a-blazing?"

Ingram takes the cigarette out of his mouth and exhales out the open window. "Yeah, there's a plan. I plan to let you out here at the light."

"Because you want me to sneak around and surprise them from behind, no doubt?"

"Man, these ain't your people. I know these guys."

"First off, my sister will kick my ass to Albuquerque if I show up back at your place without you. Second, I ain't so sure that you don't have your own reasons for wanting to get a hold of Shepard…"

"As a matter of fact," Ingram says. He stubs out his cigarette and pokes the lighter in again. "No lie, I'd like to take a shot at him, but mostly I'm thinking maybe if I get him out of this it'd make us even. I want cut loose. I keep saying it- that I want out- but I keep digging myself in deeper. I can't see it getting much deeper than this, unless I'm dead and buried."

"Let me ask you this- do you love my sister?"

Ingram lights another cigarette. He glares sideways at Two-Bit as if to say it's none of his business.

Instead, he asks, "How long I known her now? Three weeks?"

"So, you don't love my sister?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't proclaim from the mountain tops that you did."

"For the love of…how old are you? Eighteen?"

"Almost nineteen."

Ingram smirks. "Which is eighteen…let me explain something to you, boy- once you're ain't in high school anymore, you learn to take these things with a little more caution. You don't just go out to the movies one night, and a ballgame the next, and then be writing each other's names in hearts all over your theme books."

"How the hell would you know? Didn't you go to prison right out of high school?"

Ingram flips Two-Bit the bird. "Truth told I was done with high school quite a while before I went to the pen. I had a real girlfriend for a year or two between."

"Did you love her?"

Ingram tosses another cigarette butt out the window. "No. I'd have to say I didn't. Didn't love shit at that point 'cept maybe my granddaddy, not that I ever did right by him or let him know it. I treated that girl like shit. I fooled around, I drank too much, I stood her up to go race cars. Maybe I loved her, but ask her about it- I bet she'd tell you different."

Two-Bit is quiet for a long time. He wiggles his fingers for a cigarette. Ingram gives him one and they both sit and smoke in silence as the streets flow by beneath them and the buildings get taller and closer together.

"I suppose I don't need to ask if my sister's different," Two-Bit says finally. "That's just begging for a smart-ass reply."

Ingram grins. "Yeah, I got all kinds of replies for that."

"Are you different than you were back then?"

"I'd like to think so." He points to an upcoming stop light. "This is where you get off."

Two-Bit shakes his head. "So if you don't know if you love her yet, what's it going to take for you to know?"

"Time, I'd guess." Ingram shrugs. He slows the car and pulls over to the curb. He shoos at Two-Bit with his cigarette.

Two-Bit doesn't move. "I know I'm just a mere, dumb high school kid, but it would seem to me that you got a whole lot better chance at getting that time if you don't go into this alone."

"And it would seem to me that if both of us go after them, the chances are greater that she could end up with no one to take care of her."

"She don't need anyone to take care of her, man. Shit, any college professors come knocking down our doors today because anything we done was so spectacular? Paulie can take care of herself, but I'd hate to see her be left lonely."

Ingram says nothing.

Two-Bit continues, "Really, I don't know if she loves you either. I don't know if she knows, but I'd like to see her get a chance at finding out."

Still, Ingram says nothing. This whole conversation has become far too sentimental for his former-convict's self.

"So, the plan?"

Ingram smiles. "Ain't no plan. I was just going to rely on blind rage to pull me through it."

"Guided by blind rage? Is that irony?"

"Yeah, 'cause I'm a poet now. If we sit here long enough, maybe some English professor will drop from the sky and want to drag me off to college. I got no plan, Two-Bit. I just know where they are and how many of them. There's a gun in that there glove box. I'd prefer not to use it, but I will. Damn, I wish Duane was here. He's good with planning things."

"Yeah, where is Duane?"

"Don't know. Last I seen him, he was at his mama's place."

Ingram points to the other side of the street as he slows the car and pulls up against the curb. He puts it in park and lets the engine idle. He is pointing to a pool hall in the middle of the block. The windows are dark, but he can see the interior in his head just as clearly has he can see his hand resting on the steering wheel.

Beginning when he was sixteen, Ingram spent countless hours inside Whitey's. The carpet is orange with a wavy pattern in black. It melts when a dropped cigarette burns it. There is a stuffed alligator mounted behind the bar. A Harley Davidson flag hangs next to it. Merle Haggard dominates the jukebox. He's not a favorite of Ingram's, but Ingram has had time to commit every one of his songs to heart.

"They ain't here yet," he says to Two-Bit.

"Maybe they parked in back."

"Ain't nowhere to park in back. Nicky don't know enough to stay under cover, and Vaughan wouldn't care."

Vaughan Childs owns this block and everything around it up to the river on the west and Shepard territory to the east. Ingram supposes that Vaughan thinks he's about to take the Shepard domain as well.

"Who's that?" Two-Bit points towards a dark red car turning on to the block from the opposite direction.

Ingram nods. Without taking his eyes from the LaSabre, he leans over and opens the glove box. Duane's Ruger is still there. Ingram takes it, shuts the glove box, and snaps the barrel open to be sure it is still loaded. Why wouldn't it be? The only person to see it in all this time is Pauline.

Ingram sighs. He does it because he's got Pauline on the brain now, but Two-Bit thinks it's because Ingram has seen who is stepping out the LaSabre. Ingram isn't really that surprised to see Duane, but Two-Bit thinks he is, and waxes sympathetic.

"Damn, buddy."

Ingram flicks the barrel back in place with a twitch of his wrist. The movement is so easy and automatic that it frightens Two-Bit a little. He turns his attention back to the street where Duane and Nicky are hoisting Tim out of the backseat and balancing him to stand between them.

"You got your blade?" Ingram asks.

Two-Bit rolls his eyes. "Nope."

"You ever used one of these?" He holds the gun out in his open palm.

"Nope. Well, not at anything living. Laid a few beers cans to rest in my day."

Ingram nods. He waits for the Mitchells and Gary to disappear into Whitey's with Tim and then puts the car back in drive.

"Where we going?" Two-Bit asks.

"Change of plans."

"You mean there is one now?"

Ingram leans forward and stuff the gun in the back of his jeans. He drives to the light and turns left before beginning to explain to Two-Bit.

"There's at least seven guys in there. We don't have enough bullets for all of them. I don't think I can shoot Duane anyway."

"Shit, hand it over. I'll shoot him for you. He stabbed you in the back."

Ingram shrugs. Two-Bit wouldn't understand; he's never been to prison. "Self-preservation is a powerful motivator."

"So where are we going now?"

"Right here," Ingram makes another turn and pulls up in front of the Tulsa County Court House. He removes the gun from his pants again and spills the bullets from the chamber. He hands them to Two-Bit, but keeps the gun.

"What are you doing?" Two-Bit asks.

"Well, I can't very well walk in there with a loaded gun, and I ain't leaving it with you- you said you was going to shoot Duane. Y'all tell your sister to take my car to Stillwater. Yours'll never make it."

Ingram takes off his sunglasses and tosses them on the dash. He opens the car door and steps out on to the curb. He takes a moment to square his shoulders and then leans down to speak to Two-Bit through the open window.

"Slide over, will you? This here's a fire lane."

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

Ingram nods. "I'm calling in the Calvary. And I'm buying myself that time I said I needed to think about your sister. Everything solved."

"Not everything. She's going to kill me when I get back."

"Tell her I had a gun. You had no choice," Ingram says, grinning at him. He turns to go up the stairs into the courthouse, but calls back to Two-Bit over his shoulder, "Tell her to come and see me."

_Inside a suit of armor_

_Come up a little short_

_Bought myself a ticket_

_Forgot my passport_


	34. Consequences of Falling

SE Hinton, yes. "Consequences of Falling" is a song by k.d. lang. This one's short and sweet, thus the quick update.

Chapter 34- "Consequences of Falling"

_One step towards you_

_Two steps back_

_Feels like I'm crawling_

Ingram's parole officer is working late, nearly buried behind the paperwork piled on his desk. Ingram steps into the office, reaching behind him for the doorknob.

"Mr. Walker, I didn't expect to see you until next week. How can I help you?"

"Evening, sir," Ingram says. "Can we shut the door?"

The PO nods, frowning. His name is Oliver Jessup- it's written on a triangular plaque that's nearly hidden on his desk.

"Sir, I got a problem. My girlfriend, Pauline- these guys I used to run with knocked her around some today. I been trying to have no contact with them, like you said, but my buddy Duane and me…" Ingram drops his head and rubs his eyes. He has been lying to this man for weeks. He had told him there had been no contact with the River Kings, no fights, no rumbles. Told him Duane was no longer living at his house.

"Is this Duane Mitchell?"

"Yes, sir, me and Duane we had this plan to walk away from the Kings and join up with a different gang, one that wasn't into all the drug activity. We thought they'd protect us."

"What happened, Ingram? Which gang did you join?"

"Tim Shepard. We joined up with Tim Shepard, and we never done nothing wrong when we was with him, save for a couple of fights…but that was mostly with guys from the old gang."

Jessup blinks hard. He looks like he needs either a nap or a shot of bourbon.

"Why are you telling me this now?" He says. "Obviously, something is wrong."

"Yes, sir. It seems Duane got a little impatient. Bunch of guys jumped Pauline and Tim today. They took off with Tim. They're going to kill him, if they ain't already."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are they going to kill you, Ingram?"

"Hell if I know," Ingram replies. "Most likely."

Jessup says. "Walker, everything you've just told me is in direct violation with your parole agreement. I know that you came here in good faith, but I can't- in good faith- put you back out on the street."

"It's all right," Ingram says. "I know. Do what you got to do, sir, but we're sitting here in a building all full of armed law enforcement. Can't you send somebody out looking for Shepard?"

"You're kidding me. You're doing this because you want us to save Tim Shepard's worthless ass?"

"Well, they kidnapped him, didn't they? That's federal, ain't it? And life to my best recollection. That would about put an end to the River Kings, if you was to charge them with that."

Ingram waits. He can see Jessup waffling. He wishes he'd left the door open.

"You know, Doc Ellis has nothing but praise for you and the work you do, Walker."

Ingram rolls his eyes. He stands up, takes the gun out of his jeans and lays it on Jessup's desk.

"Ain't loaded, but I don't believe I'm to be possessed of a firearm."

Jessup sighs and nods in defeat. He picks up his phone and dials an extension. He calls for two detectives and a jailor.

"In any one else, loyalty like yours would be a good thing, Walker. Seems like it's going to be your downfall once again. You think I don't know what happened during that robbery? You wouldn't be the first grunt that got talked into talking the fall for the big cheese."

Ingram shrugs. "Ain't Tim I'm being loyal to."

"Well, the violations won't add up to more than a few months. Less than six and they won't even send you down to McAllister. They'll keep you up here in County."

"Yes, sir. McAllister's damned awful crowded."

Jessup smiles a little.

"You told me once you were no brain surgeon, Walker, but I think you're a little smarter than your reputation. You go to County, the River Kings go to the pen. You're done with them because they're done for, and you get your protection for a few months besides."

Ingram ducks his head, too shy to accept the compliment.

He asks Jessup, "I get a phone call, right?"

The jailor enters and Ingram turns to face him. He is ready with his hands empty in front of him. The jailor mumbles through the parole violation charge. He cuffs Ingram and then leads him by the arm out into the hall. Jessup follows as far as the door, but Ingram doesn't turn back.

* * *

The phone behind the bar at Elaine's rings and Glenda curses out loud. She near-sprints from across the bar and catches it on the fifth ring.

"Elaine's."

"Mrs. Mathews?"

"Yeah, this is Glenda." She scowls. The voice is familiar, but it doesn't sound like one of Two-Bit and Pauline's teachers, the only people who typically call her 'Mrs. Mathews'.

"Ma'am, this is Ingram Walker."

A wave of nauseous panic washes over her. He'd only call her if something was wrong.

"What is it? Where is she?"

"She's at my place, ma'am." His voice is calm. "Two-Bit's on his way to get her. She's a little roughed up, but she'll be all right."

"What happened to her?"

"She's all right, ma'am. I took care of it, but I'm going to be locked back up for a little while. There ain't a phone at my house, so I was hoping you'd tell her."

"Ingram, did you hurt anyone?"

"No, ma'am." He sounds proud of himself.

Glenda leans back against the wall and pushes her bangs back away from her face.

Unsure what to make of her silence, Ingram begins to wrap up his call: "Anyways, I thought you should know I ain't going to be at the DX. If she tries to tell you she's going there after school. There shouldn't be anyone left on the outside to give her any trouble now, ma'am, but she needs to be in school and not out wandering around if she's going to go to college and all."

Glenda cocks an eyebrow. Where did this college thing come from?

Ingram continues, "I told Two-Bit to let her hold on to my car. You're welcome to use it, too, if you need it."

Glenda raises both eyebrows. This boy is taking care of them, all of them. Whatever he's gotten himself into, he's thought it out, and her family has been foremost in his thoughts- almost as if they're his family too. She can't get her children's own father to do that.

"I'll guard her with my life, Ingram. Are you going to be all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be fine. Thank you, ma'am."

He hangs up. Glenda puts the phone back, wondering what on earth he's thanking her for.

* * *

When Tim wakes up in the hospital, he immediately sits up and looks around for Dally. He is surprised to find himself bandaged and in bed and Dally nowhere to be found. He frowns and thinks hard, not sure what happened or how much time has passed.

In the recesses of his memory, he latches on to the image of Dally sliding towards him across the hood of the abandoned Chevy, proclaiming that a rumble ain't a rumble without him.

_Dumb son of a bitch_, Tim remembers thinking. _We don't need you. The odds are near-even_.

And then some Soc had clocked him- right in the fucking nose- and he'd lost sight of Dally in the rain and the turmoil of the bodies blowing past.

_My hands tremble, my heart aches_

_Is that you calling?_

_If I'm alone in this_

_I don't think I can take_

_The consequences of falling._


	35. Tears of a Clown

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Tears of a Clown" was written and performed by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles. Pagliacci is a reference to an opera about (among other things) a clown who murders his wife.

_Now if there's a smile on my face  
It's only there trying to fool the public  
But when it comes down to fooling you  
Now honey that's quite a different subject_

Kathy looks up at the black and white images hanging all around her in the air like ghosts. Some of them are ghosts- she can see Johnny Cade's cavernous black eyes peeking from behind Ponyboy and Curly. There's Pauline's dad, who seems to be forever teetering on the edge of death, but never quite stepping out of bounds. Looking at them she feels empty and confused. She barely knew Johnny, but knowing he only exists now on film makes her wonder if there was something she should have done.

The other pictures make her feel warm. Mad as she is at Two-Bit at the moment (earlier in the day, she had walked around the corner on the fourth floor and found him standing outside the Home Ec room with his arm around Caroline Christopher), her lips tighten in an involuntary smile when she sees the photo of him leaning- arms crossed and eyebrow raised- against the wall of the Paradise movie theater mimicking Sean Connery's stance on the poster for "Thunderball".

There are several pictures of Two-Bit, and seeing them makes Kathy a little jealous. Mostly Pauline complains to her about Two-Bit, if she talks about him at all, but it is evident from the photographs that they live some kind of secret life in an alternate world where they get along and spend countless hours cracking one another up.

"A little assistance, assistant." Pauline has been quiet most of the day. Kathy guesses she's thinking through this thing with Ingram, but attempts to draw her out on the subject have been met with shrugs.

"What do you need?" Kathy steps across the darkroom to the table where Pauline is slipping a fresh piece of paper on to the enlarger.

"Remember how I showed you how to dodge?"

Kathy nods.

"Okay, this one's kind of dark from about here to the edge. Here- " She hands Kathy a piece of cardboard and Kathy flutters it indicating that she can indeed handle the responsibility of dodging.

"You think there's any kind of scholarship for photographer's assistants?"

"I don't know. You should come with me and check it out. Got to be something there that would interest you."

They both know Pauline's ulterior motive. She doesn't want to go alone. She'd love to drive there alone, but walking up to the art building all by herself is going to take some doing.

"You know I can't. I already promised Jimmy I'd watch his kid after school. He's got a probation hearing."

Pauline flips the switch on the timer and nods to Kathy. Kathy waves the cardboard over the left third of the image- one of Pauline's mother smoking a cigarette while hanging out her laundry.

There is a soft knock on the door and then someone tries the knob.

"Shit…" Pauline mumbles and then yells, "Hold it, will you?"

The timer clicks off and Pauline transfers the paper to the first tray. There is another knock at the door.

"Fifteen seconds," Pauline shouts. "Can you hang on for that long?"

There is no answer, but when Pauline does get the paper to the stop bath and steps back to open the door, the visitor is still waiting on the other side.

Pauline scowls. The redheaded cheerleader is standing in the dim hall trying her best to look irritated. Really, she looks beat and washed out. She flips her hair over her shoulder and looks behind Pauline to see if she is alone.

Kathy clicks her tongue and sighs. "I got to go to fifth period. Fifth period, Paulie."

"I got a pass," Pauline says. She steps back to let Kathy exit and let the cheerleader in.

"Are all these yours?" She says when the door closes and they are alone.

"Yeah."

The redhead stands on her toes to get a better look. She smiles a little.

"There's Two-Bit and Ponyboy," she begins to take inventory. "Who's that?"

"My old man."

The cheerleader nods. Pauline leans back against the table, unwilling to continue her work until she finds out what the girl wants.

"Can I help you? Aren't you skipping a class?"

The cheerleader smiles, but refrains from reminding Pauline that her pass is outdated and she's skipping too. Her smile fades again and she takes a step forward.

"I don't know. I guess so. I just wanted to talk."

"What about?" Pauline has heard that the girl has been recruited to testify at the Curtis' custody hearing. Why doesn't she just go talk to Ponyboy?

"I just wanted to tell someone and you…you have a way of not letting anything I say get back to anybody."

Pauline remembers the girl's note that she never delivered to Dally. She shrugs.

"What?"

"I haven't said it out loud to anyone. I mean, I'm not totally sure. I'm pretty sure, but I'm not sure, and I don't want to start something if I'm not totally sure."

She flips her hair again.

Pauline squints at the girl through the red light and says, "You're knocked up."

"Like I said, I'm not one hundred percent sure."

"I didn't even know cheerleaders did that."

The girl wrinkles her nose at Pauline in annoyance. "Well, sometimes things just get a little out of hand."

"It's not my brother's, is it?"

"No. It's Bob's…it would be Bob's, if I was sure."

"Well, I guess it makes sense that you're telling me as opposed to telling him then."

"Jesus," the redhead says. "I didn't come here for hugs and a hanky, but- God!"

"I don't get you," Pauline says. She turns away from the girl and swishes the fixer around with a pair of tongs. "Why are you so hell-bent on inserting yourself in our lives? Do we look like we're that damned much fun to you?"

"I just thought…I just wanted someone to talk to, and I thought you'd understand."

"Why would I understand? Because I'm such a slut? Because that's the way girls are on my side of town? You figure I must deal with this kind of thing all the time?"

The cheerleader bites her lip. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks away from Pauline, blinking back tears.

Pauline rolls her eyes. "Christ, there's nothing sadder than a crying cheerleader. It's like seeing a clown cry."

"Oh, go to hell," is the whispered reply. Still, the girl doesn't leave. She's staying, waiting for something.

"You want to sit down?" Pauline asks. "What is it…Cherry, right?"

Cherry nods and accepts a seat on a wooden stool.

Pauline pulls the photograph out of the fixer and watches it drip. She thinks of Sandy Hudson and Sylvia, and is forced to concede that Cherry's assumption is based on something.

She says to Cherry, "Okay, so I have heard the tales- I know what happens to girls on my side of town. What happens to girls on the South side?"

Cherry shakes her head. "I don't know. I have relatives out of state. I'd guess they'd send me there."

"How old are?"

"Seventeen."

"Oh, well, you're pretty fucked then."

Cherry frowns. She is almost certain that Pauline is enjoying this.

"But you say you don't know for sure?" Pauline asks.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm really…you know…really late, and the timing would be right, but it's been a really stressful couple of weeks, and maybe…"

"Maybe," Pauline says. She reaches towards the photograph hanging closest to her to see if it's dry. Satisfied, she unclips it and lays it on a shelf next to Cherry.

Cherry leans forward to see it. She doesn't recognize the subject. He has dark hair and he's older than she and Pauline. The photograph is taken from inside a car. Pauline must have been up front and he is sitting in the backseat. He's wearing a tenement t-shirt with no shirt over it. A cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth. There's a tattoo on his upper arm and maybe one peeking out from under the front of the undershirt. He's grinning and swatting at Pauline with something- his other shirt, Cherry sees on closer inspection- trying to prevent her from taking the picture.

"Your boyfriend?" Cherry asks.

Pauline nods. She continues to pinch the edges of the other pictures- checking for dampness- and taking down the ones that are dry.

"He's cute," Cherry says.

"He is that," Pauline replies, imitating Ingram's standard 'I am that'.

"What would he do?"

"'Bout what?"

"If you got knocked up…if you were pregnant?"

Pauline checks the next picture. She knows Ingram would take care of her. There is no hesitation before the thought- she'd have a baby and he'd take care of them both- but she stops herself before she says it. She has run dry on being irritated with Cherry. Now she does feel sorry for her.

Pauline says, "What are you doing day after tomorrow?"

"This. I mean, it's Thursday. I'm going to school."

"Can you fake sick?"

"I won't need to fake. I can barely keep anything down before ten o'clock."

Pauline cocks an eyebrow at her. "Well, that's not a good sign. I got to go to Stillwater on Thursday. Stay home sick and ride along with me. You can see a doctor there, and no one here would have to know about it."

Cherry nods. She thinks for a second and then asks, "How are you getting there?"

"His car," Pauline says and nods towards the picture of Ingram.

"What are you going to tell him?"

"Nothing," Pauline says with a shrug. "No reason to tell him anything. Not like he's coming along."

Cherry frowns, not understanding what Pauline means by that. Outside in the hall, the bell rings. Cherry stands up- like a robot, Pauline thinks- and walks to the darkroom door. She pauses this time, at least, to wait for Pauline approval before opening it and letting the light in.

"What time?"

"I have to be at an interview at one o'clock. If we leave when school starts, we'd have all morning to take care of your business. Aren't there clinics on University campuses or something?"

Cherry shakes her head, unsure. "So, eight-thirty? Can I meet you here? In the parking lot?"

"Yeah," Pauline nods. "It's a black Ford."

"Okay. Black Ford. I'll be there. Thanks, Pauline."

Pauline thinks back and tries to remember if she's ever told Cherry her name. If she hasn't, the girl picked it up somewhere. She seems to know all their names, like she's a fan of them- a fan of greasers and hoods, and their worldly women.

Pauline thinks that's a little bit creepy, but mostly it's sad. She's brought it on herself, but it's going to be a long ride to Stillwater.

_Just like Pagliacci did  
I try to keep my surface hid_

* * *

In the name of transitioning, I'll warn you right now that this is the second to last chapter. I'm not a big fan of "closure", so some of you are going to hate where I end this. I'm quite content with it myself, but I feel obligated to sending up a warning.


	36. Woke Up This Morning

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. "Woke up This Morning" is a song by Roman Candle. There are so many songs of theirs that I love.

I had wanted to have Pauline and Cherry listening to "Ode to Billy Joe" in the car because that song gives me the creeps, but it didn't come out until 1967. They're listening to "Last Kiss" instead. "Downtown" is by Petula Clark.

Chapter 36- Woke Up This Morning

_Well I woke up this morning with love in my mind.  
I had started to wonder, I had started to wonder._

Cherry Valance doesn't know a Ford from a Farmall. Her void of knowledge about cars has always been such a disappointment. She could see it in her father's eyes when he bought her the Stingray and she had gushed over its pretty color. She could see it on Bob's face when she failed to get the gravity of his Brand New Mustang.

She sits down low in the driver's seat of her Stingray after the rest of Will Rogers has gone inside. Her eyes dart around nervously seeking out a black car and praying for Pauline Mathews. Pauline is running late, which Cherry suspects is Pauline jerking her around just a little more. She isn't sure what made Pauline invite her along on the drive to Stillwater, but she wasn't in a position to turn her down. Pauline is smart- Cherry can tell- and she knew when she sought her out in the darkroom that Pauline would come up with some kind of plan.

When she spots the black car turning into the parking lot, Cherry is up and out of the Stingray like a beam of light. She jumps in on the passenger side next to Pauline before the car has even come to a full stop.

"Jesus," Pauline says. "You rob a bank?"

Too overcome with nerves, Cherry misses the joke. She fumbles with her purse and asks if Pauline needs gas money.

"You can get lunch," Pauline tells her.

The interior of the car smells of cigarettes, and although it's preferable to the ever-present bourbon smell in Bob's car- Cherry rolls down a window to let the morning air in. She lays her head back on the seat and closes her eyes. Wayne Cochran is on the radio. Cherry hates this song; it's always given her the creeps.

"I hate this song," Pauline says, and changes the station. "Gives me the creeps."

Cherry opens her eyes and smiles.

"I got to stop somewhere first," Pauline says. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine. Where do you have to stop?"

Pauline smiles. "Jail."

Cherry wants to know what for, but she doesn't ask and Pauline doesn't offer. She calculates in her head how long it will take to get to Stillwater and how long they'll have before Pauline's interview. They'll have to head back immediately after if Cherry is going to be at home when her mother returns from her day's business.

Pauline steers the car on to the block where the police station sits. She looks at the empty parking spaces in front and then at Cherry, and then makes a left turn to a near-empty parking lot across the street.

"About ten minutes," she says. "I'll leave the keys."

* * *

The first Thursday- the first Visitors Day- of his incarceration has Ingram on edge. He knows she should be in school and shouldn't be visiting him at all, but still he jumps every time the cellblock door opens and another inmate is taken down to visit a wife or a mother or a girlfriend.

Since he has the time and nothing better to do, Ingram lies on his bunk and ponders why he doesn't entirely believe Pauline will come. Then he begins to ponder why he is so in love with a girl when he isn't sure she loves him back.

He does love her, he's decided. That conclusion didn't take nearly as much time to come to as he'd led Two-Bit to believe it would. He loves that she's so serious and tough- cranky really- on first meeting, but such a smart aleck and so funny when you peel that away.

"Hey, Johnnie Walker," a voice calls him from the cell across the aisle. It's a guy named Clark from the Tiber Street outfit. Ingram can't remember if Clark is his first or last name. He's been passing messages from Nicky and the other members of the River Kings who are being temporarily held several cells down and out of Ingram's line of sight. Clark takes his new job seriously, and he should. The messages to be relayed are mostly threats: does Ingram really think this is going to pan out? We know where she lives, fucker, where her family lives. Sure, we're getting sent, but someone else is about to get paroled. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life, Johnnie Walker- keep looking over your shoulder.

Ingram raises his eyebrows, but says nothing to Clark. He hasn't bit yet. He lies on his bunk and counts the hours and minutes until the Marshalls come to transfer Vaughan and the rest of them down to Oklahoma City.

"Johnnie Walker, Duane wants to talk to you," Clark says.

Ingram remains silent. Duane hasn't threatened him or called him any names. This is the second or third request to talk. Ingram has nothing to say, but he waits quietly for Duane to start talking.

Before Clark can continue his game of telephone, though, the cellblock door opens and the guard comes in.

"Rise and shine, Walker. You got company."

Ingram stands and pokes his hands through the bars to be cuffed. He waits for the door to be opened and then steps in front of the guard to walk down the aisle towards the door. It's the first time he's had the opportunity to see any of the River Kings, but he keeps his eyes straight ahead and doesn't react, even when Duane says, "tell her I'm sorry, man."

Pauline looks pretty in her dress clothes though her slouch says that she's uncomfortable. Even so, she tries to play it off.

"I clean up good, huh?"

Ingram winks at her. "Good enough to eat."

She gives up a real grin then and takes a step forward. The guard pauses at the door to make sure that she isn't intending to touch Ingram. He waits for them both to sit on opposite sides of a small table and then he exits the visiting room.

"Wasn't sure you was going to come," Ingram says, fishing for reassurance.

"Why wouldn't I come?"

"'Cause you're ornery. 'Cause I'm in jail."

Pauline isn't sure how to explain herself, and isn't sure she wants to take up all their time doing it. She tries, though, by telling him about Cherry.

"I'm taking this girl along for the ride with me to Stillwater. She and I go to school together. She thinks she's pregnant, and I told her we could go someplace there to find out."

Ingram frowns. "Ain't Kathy, is it?"

Pauline shakes her head. "Just a girl I know from school. We're not really even friends. She's a cheerleader…"

"There's a pregnant cheerleader in my car?" Ingram asks. Then he shrugs and teases her: "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Shut the hell up." Pauline wrinkles her nose at him.

"Not believing that? No? All right, I guess you have the honor of bringing the first knocked-up cheerleader into my car."

"What can I say? I'm a mover and a shaker," Pauline says.

This is going nowhere. She isn't explaining anything. What she wants to tell him is that she knows how lucky she is- that Ingram would never treat her like Bob treated Cherry. She isn't sure what Cherry meant exactly by "things getting out of hand", but Pauline knows she's never had to make any deals or pleas for sanity with Ingram.

"What is it, little girl?" He asks.

Pauline shrugs and drops her gaze downward. Duane Mitchell's name is carved in the table. So is Gary's. She looks up at Ingram again.

"I guess I'm just glad that you don't treat me like her boyfriend treated her. He is…was kind of a dick. If it was me, you'd be taking me…I don't know."

Ingram leans back in his chair and says, "Well, it ain't going to be you, not for a long time. You're getting into that college today."

"And-what? We aren't going to sleep together again until I graduate?"

"I didn't say that. We're just going to watch it, watch ourselves." Ingram really has no idea what he means by that. His own mother was married at fourteen, had him at fifteen, and died in childbirth with her second child. He's hoping that Pauline will know. He likes, more than anything, the idea of making plans with her however vague they might be.

Pauline nods at him. Her cheeks are little flushed, but the wheels are turning behind her eyes. She can find out all about that sort of thing when she takes Cherry to the clinic today.

"I'll look in to that," Pauline tells him. "And report back."

Ingram grins at her and leans forward again just as the guard taps on the door to let them know their time is nearly up.

"Can you bring some cigarettes when you do? I ain't much of a poker player, it seems."

Pauline nods and stands up when the guard comes in.

"Y'all drive careful," Ingram says. "You and your cheerleader."

"I will. Saturday?"

He nods. "Saturday."

"Wish me luck?" She remembers the task ahead of her for the day, and her eyes get big and nervous again.

"Ain't going to need it," he tells her.

Only after he steps through the cellblock door in front of the guard does Ingram realize that he didn't tell Pauline that he loves her. She didn't say it to him either. He guesses maybe that's what they need the time for. Two chicken-shit scared people like themselves are going to have to work up to that.

* * *

Pauline doesn't say anything to Cherry when she gets back into the car.

"I'm sorry," Cherry says once they're moving again. "About the way that I asked you. I didn't mean that you knew about these kinds of things because of who you are or where you lived or whatever."

"Why did you ask me?"

"Because you always seem so confident. Whenever I bust in on you and your friends in the bathroom, you always look like you own it, and when you leave you always seem like you know where you're going."

Pauline thinks that's a silly reason. Of course they all know where they're going- they're supposed to be going to class.

"You know we're all stoned, right? When we're holed up in the little girl's room?"

"Yeah. I ratted you out once. I'm sorry about that, too. I guess I was jealous."

"You could've just asked. I'd share," Pauline tells her.

"Not of that," Cherry says, and then she gets it's a joke, and smiles. She says more wistfully, "y'all just seem so much more free than us."

Pauline thinks of Ingram locked up in jail and smirks. Then she thinks of why Ingram's locked up- because he chose to be to protect her and to save Tim. She figures Cherry's dead boyfriend Bob won't be making a choice like that anytime soon. Ingram is freer than Bob.

"What are you going to do?" Pauline asks. "If you're…"

Cherry shakes her head. "I don't even know. I figure I'll find out if I really am first, then I'll start looking into that adventure. You and I can talk it out on the way home."

She looks at Pauline then, and Pauline catches herself before she groans. She nods instead.

"Sounds good."

Pauline leans forward and turns the radio back up. She begins to sing along softly to "Downtown" as they drive further away from it, and the song is like a lullaby to them both.

_I know a thousand people that will tell how the end of the whole song goes.  
I'm thinking that nobody knows, I'm thinking that nobody knows._

The End~ Thanks for reading!


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